Through the Veil
by iluvaqt
Summary: Unspeakable Granger finds herself on the other side of The Veil. Still coming to terms with life after the war, is she prepared for the challenges this new world will bring.
1. After the War

**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter_ and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, and Scholastic, respectively. _Lord of the Rings _is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien, his family, New Line Cinema. All original characters are products of the author, as is the premise and plot. Copyright infringement is not intended and no money is made from this story.

**Set:** After Deathly Hallows, After LotR: The Return of The King.

**Author's Notes:** This story disregards many things considered **canon** - The function of The Veil, Deathly Hallow's Epilogue, human born wizards (who are considered Maia in LotR world), Morfin Gaunt's fate. I have not read The Hobbit, The Simillarion or Unfinished Tales, so references outside the world of the Lord of the Rings verse are only used by what I found researching subjects. Published authors are known for inconsistency in their own canon, especially ones who work with serials. I will endeavour to remain faithful to the universe I create. This is a fan story, meaning it is my liberty taken with Rowling's and Tolkien's work.

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::: ::: :::

Three years had passed since the war had ended. And although the scars had long since begun to fade, the homes and businesses rebuilt, many of the people's memories of the horrors and losses dimmed, Hermione still felt it as raw as yesterday. Especially on the nights she spent alone, when she once had her two best friends for company to chase away the nightmares and fill the lingering silence with talk of plans and dreams.

The brief kiss in the heat of fading adrenaline, the feeling of a task well done, the euphoria of relief of triumph over evil, had been just that. A by-product of hormones and basic needs. The need for touch and reassurance, for comfort when the tide of emotion threatens to overwhelm. She should have known from their years growing up together that they were too volatile, to different in upbringing, interests and nature to attempt a healthy lasting companionship.

It also didn't help that they spent months apart immediately after the war, Hermione continuing her studies and completing her NEWTs at Beauxbatons while Harry and Ron were admitted straight into the Auror Academy. Their month end 'dates' and owl correspondence lasted all of two months before the letters got fewer between and the excuses started cropping up. She was a week before her final exams when she was confronted with Ron's picture in the paper embracing Demelza Robbins. Shock didn't seem an adequate description for her reaction. She'd expected an owl, a visit, an explanation, from him, or anyone really. The headline and the story accompanying did little to dislodge the disbelief or enormous flashing question mark in her mind. Not to mention the ache that had lodged in her chest.

Her Arithmancy NEWT complete, she'd exited the Beaubauxtons' exam room for last time. She had packed up her things, cleaned her dorm room and apparated the Burrow in under an hour.

_"She gets me."_ Was what he'd said. As though that was explanation enough for seven years, months almost starving to death on the run, fearing for their lives and surviving a war together.

"I thought we'd made plans..." she'd pleaded, her confusion paramount in her voice. They'd agreed to pursue their separate avenues to lay foundations for the future. A future that she'd planned to build together. Harry and Ron as Aurors, herself working in some area of the ministry under Kingsley's leadership, reforming the governing body to it's foundations to build a brighter and better tomorrow for everyone.

He'd given her passing glance of guilt, before his expression hardened with frustration. "You always make plans, Hermione, I just never seemed to fit."

Her heart had spattered for a beat and then exploded in her chest, along with her anger. "Thank you for spelling that out for me now."

She'd zapped him with a stinging hex before, transfiguring him into a goat. Mrs. Weasley had been less than pleased to find all her rose bushes, chicory and bellflowers eaten when she arrived home from Diagon Alley. They'd barred her for a time from the Burrow.

Harry had decided to play Switzerland, it didn't help that Ginny who'd always felt threatened by the closeness of the Trio, firmly took Ron's side in things. Hermione understood how it was more important that Harry not upset his domestic bliss by supporting her, even though it stung.

After she'd cooled down and examined the situation in an objective light, Hermione realised that Ron had done them a favor. She'd apologized to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for what she'd done to their son and the damage he'd caused to the garden. She'd even apologized to Ron himself for letting her temper get the better of her. Last year, she'd even accompanied Harry and Ron to a Ministry event.

Watching Ron with Demelza only cemented how poorly she and Ron would have been matched. They could talk Quidditch for hours, Demelza loved Firewhisky and could drink most men under the table, she was untouchable on a broom, while Hermione still shivered at the thought of even having to mount one, and she doted on Ron. The two-year age difference wasn't even noticeable now that Demelza had graduated too.

It was revealed that the younger woman had been enamoured with Ron all throughout their school years. It certainly explained why his comments had reduced her to tears every time. Even if he had been unnecessarily cutting from memory.

They'd married last spring and she'd heard from Harry on his last lunch visit that they were expecting their first child any day now. Hermione was happy with her lot. Really, she was. So why was her forehead currently sporting the impression of her favorite quill?

Rattling of the walls, shook her from her stupor and she clung to the edges of the desk when the ground trembled and rolled under her chair. In a single sweeping move she was out of her office door, wand drawn, scouting for the threat.

Outside was utter chaos. Flashes of light filled the corridor red, green, blue, orange. Predominantly and sickeningly green, she thought, gripping her wand tightly to her side. Two of her co-workers were lying face down on the floor, their prone bodies, absolutely still, Killing Curse, no doubt. Her lips pursed in a grim line she edge forward to where the shouts and flashes of light echoed from.

A curse blew past her shoulder and exploded the wall beside her to dust. Blinking quickly and wiping her shirt over her face in the hopes to clear her vision, she didn't have time to do more than duck. It wasn't enough. Strong hands gripped her upper arms from behind and dragged her backward.

"Open it," the voice growled.

It was the door to the Time Department. So that's what they were after. He was tall, her chest was resting against the back of her hair and his hand holding the wand to her cheek was almost the size of Hagrid's. Even if she could sip his hold, he looked like he had a long reach. She wasn't eager to discover his cursing ability, let alone his physical prowess.

"Expelliarmus."

The force of the spell blew them both through the gaping hole in the wall behind them.

Hermione knew she was free-falling. The rush of air flying past her, the dead weight dragging her down fast told her that at least her assailant seemed incapacitated for the moment. They hit the bottom with a heavy thug and his bulk did little to cushion the force of impact, the air exited her chest in a whoosh that left her light-headed and counting stars.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted from somewhere above.

Hermione rolled off her captor and scrambled to her feet upon seeing the Death Eater mask. Hadn't they caught them all yet? She scanned the floor for his wand or any other kind of weapon he may have had. With trembling hands, she tore off his mask. She couldn't stand those things. Not since the last time she'd been confronted by them in the Department of Mysteries.

"Harry, I'm okay," she called back, her voice trembling. This guy was the size of a bear and she didn't recognize him at all.

"Hang on," he yelled out, "we're coming down."

She kept her wand trained on him. Her arm shook as she kept it extended and she brushed back a thick dusty curl that dropped over her eyes. Blast it, with all the research for other areas she'd been helping with, she'd not being in a duel in months. She was rusty and it was showing.

"Well, well, I've been waiting for this a long time."

Hermione stiffened and tried not to show her fear. She knew his voice and visualized his face even without turning. Her boggart tended to shift between two forms, one was Greyback, the other was the standing behind her. She feared them both for similar yet different reasons. The terror of a slow painful death, tortured in unspeakable ways her imagination dares to torment her with, and the other for either the excruciatingly horrific and quick death or if he so favors, a torment worse than death, a life-long curse. It's the life experience of being vulnerable in their hands, and the very real truth of their madness and inhumanity that terrifies her.

"Oh come now, didn't the old man instill you with any manners? Face me, girl!"

Hermione turned slowly, but not before non-verbally casting a full body bind on the man lying on the floor. She could hear hurried footsteps, and she saw him grin out of the corner of her eye.

"This will make things more interesting." He sent his signature curse her way and Hermione narrowly avoided it by deflecting it. Her hand was shaking so badly now that there was almost no chance that he didn't notice.

He laughed cruelly as he easily side-stepped her stunner. "Still in third year defense I see. You know you want to," he snarled cruelly. "Try, girl. Come now..." he sneered, his chilling voice making her posture stiffen and her shoulders ache. "HIT ME!"

Hermione felt her blood boil and sweat trickled down her hairline near her temple. "Sectumsempra," she said her voice deadly, as she flicked her wand.

It hit him and slashed at his chest. His jacket and shirt shredded across his chest, a widening gash, weeping crimson bloomed across the dirty grey fabric of his shirt. He's lips twisted into a smirk. "Snape, the Mudblood lover. Not bad, but not good enough." He flicked at her a purple light glanced off her shoulder.

Hermione stumbled, a scream tore from her throat. He didn't fully hit her, she managed to dodge most of his curse but even a touch was enough to have her body protesting in jarring movements, her limbs locking.

Before she hit the ground on her knees, Dolohov was behind her.

Aurors and a fellow Unspeakable flooded the room. "Surrender, Dolohov, we have all your friends, let her go and we'll go easy on you."

Dolohov laughed. "Easy? You think two trips to Azkaban was easy? I want what's owed to me. I came for a fresh start, but since you're so set on denying me that. I'll settle for her instead. Imperio."

He had her by the hair when he cast and no one dared move as his wand was still pressed against her cheek. He smirked at them all and then his face fell. He looked at his wand and then swore.

Harry smiled. "The wards have been fixed. You're trapped."

"Av-"

Harry's face fell and he wordlessly sent a full bind at Dolohov, while beside him Auror Hastings fired a spell as well.

The spells hit Dolohov before he could finish his curse on Hermione, and sent them both flying back. Harry watched in horror as Dolohov hit the stone arch of The Veil, causing him to lose his hold on his captive. She fell through with nothing but a serene look on her face and glazed eyes, staring sightlessly back at them.

"No!" Harry all but flew down the last few steps and up to The Veil. The Unspeakable managed to grab him just before he reached out to touch the rippling surface.

"She's gone. You can't touch it or it will take you too." Harry collapsed at that and turned a murderous glare on Dolohov who was struggling against the two Aurors who'd hoisted him up, bound, already relieving him of his wand.

"I'll see to it that you get what you deserve all right," he cried. "You've had time enough. The Dementors are going to welcome you and I'm going to enjoy watching you get your last kiss."

Harry was still vibrating with anger as another Auror held him back quietly as they took the two Death Eaters from the room. He wouldn't even look at Hastings, although the man apologized for his part in Hermione's fate.

The room cleared, and Harry sunk to his knees. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He'd lost two loved ones to The Veil now. He thought his days of mourning were at an end. He thought they had won the war. For every Death Eater they found and caught it seemed there were two more that cropped up. Even with the Malfoys coerced co-operation, the true extent Voldemort's operation, his followers, his supporters and his sympathisers was still behind unravelled a little more each day. Although Dolohov was one of the last of Voldemort's Inner Circle, who escaped during the Final Battle, their intelligence said that new plans to complete Voldemort's objectives were still being made. Harry knew that it was only the hate of few that fueled these plans but it hurt that even after so much sacrifice, it seemed that peace wouldn't be lasting.

He stared at the shimmering surface for a long time, the ripples looking like The Black Lake under a full moon. He was reaching for it again unconsciously, before he heard a voice that startled him out of his grief.

"Harry?"

The voice was distant, and soft, barely a whisper.

"Her-Hermione?" he mumbled back, his heart beating a staccato in his chest. He stood on unsteady limbs and moved closer to the archway. He pressed his hand to the stone, inching as close as he dared. "Hermione, I'm here."

"Harry, if you're there. If you can hear me. I'm okay. I can't come back the way I came, but it's okay. I'll be fine."

It sounded like she said the last part with a sniffle, and he smiled. Hermione was always being brave for everyone else, always planning, always searching for answers to every problem, thinking a head to protect them, saving them.

"You can't stay, Harry. You have to go. It'll pull you in. The longer you stay..." she trailed off.

He wanted to stay, he wanted to tell her so many things. That he wouldn't give up on her, that he'd talk to the Unspeakables, they'd find a way together. They'd work on this problem together, like they had in the past. She'd stood by him always, he would do the same for her.

"Go Harry, I know you're still there. You're stubborn like that. There's nothing you can do for me. The Veil has existed long before the Ministry. They built around it. All I ask is that you don't forget me. I'll never forget you," she said honestly with a sob. "Goodbye Harry."

Harry curled his hands into fists and blinked back the threat of a fresh wave of tears. "Goodbye...Hermione," he choked. He stood for a while longer, watching the ripples dance over the surface. He strained his ears for her but she said no more. It sounded like a breeze dancing through leaves. A forest.

He prayed she'd be safe. That somewhere, wherever she was, she'd be safe and maybe, just maybe find happiness too.


	2. Where Am I?

::: ::: :::

There were eerie noises sounding through the cavernous room she was in, scratching, scuttling and an echo of indecipherable whispers. Clutching her wand to her chest she murmured, "Lumos," and looked around. Aside from the other side of The Veil, the area around her looked remarkably like the Death Room cavern minus the tiled walls, tiered levels and doors. With the bowels of the Ministry being deep underground having been dug and carved out earth and stone, perhaps this was a parallel world since this side of The Veil looked so similar. Fresh air filled the room from behind her and the sound of whispers became clearer as the sound of rustling leaves, the sounds of wind billowing through the trees. The chirping of crickets and owls hooting sounded both ominous and familiar. The long months spent in the woods returned an unforgotten anxiety to her heart and chill to her bones. This time there was no Harrry to bring her out of her grief over Ron's abandonment or distract her from the ever gnawing hunger of a stomach never being satisfied. Harry had told her repeatedly how he could not have survived the war and all those years preceding it without her, but she valued and treasured his friendship just as much. They'd helped each other survive when there had been no one else. She had no illusions as to what would have been her fate if she had not befriended Harry Potter at Hogwarts. As a muggleborn, she would perished early after Voldermort's return, or lived in hiding in the muggle world after breaking her wand (the only way she would have been able to resist using it, to keep the Death Eater controlled Ministry from tracking her) and abandoning the wizarding world.

In her magically climate controlled office at the Ministry, her cashmere sweater and linen tailored pants were perfectly comfortable without her robes. Now she hugged herself against the cool night air. Walking slowly and taking in every inch of her surroundings as she went, she'd reached the mouth of the cave. The trees were tall and swaying gently, the night sky clear with billions of stars dotting the blanket of black above her. It was breathtaking. It had been a long time since she'd taken the time to soak in the beauty of nature. She walked briskly then and gathered twigs, fallen branches and dried leaves from the forest edge nearest to the cave. Assembling her armload of dried brush in a pile, she stuffed her kindling underneath the teepee like stack and cast, "Incendio." A fire engulfed the dried leaves and started crackling away.

Hermione huddled back against the rock-face inside the cave and kept her eyes on the forest ahead. The fire would keep wild animals way till daylight. As a further precaution she stood again to begin erecting temporary wards, a repelling and notice-me-not charm. She would set out at first light to search for fresh water. She was seriously longing for her beaded bag. She'd upgraded her trusty little bag for a leather satchel once she'd gained her position as Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. Her regular work outfit consisted of traditional non-descript black robe over whatever her smart comfortable choice or work attire suited her for that day, unless she'd been advised of an _away _mission, in which case she dressed to requirement. She was also never without her new professional leather bag with shoulder strap, undetectable extension charm in place. She'd lost track of what she had in that bag. It put her supplies for that camping trip to shame. Then again, she'd never been on the run before she she hadn't really known what would have been handy to have, and what would have been great to have more of. She also hadn't known how long they'd have to be on the run for.

Her satchel contained things for every emergency, a few essential books - Wilderness Survival A Wizard's Guide, Advanced Potion's Making - Professor Snape's copy (she'd found it in Grimmauld Place after the war. Harry admitted to taking it from the Room of Requirement after their Sixth Year, thinking it too dangerous to leave for someone to find. It was a fortuitous decision, since it would have been destroyed by Fiendfyre if it had been left there), and A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration, and her love-worn copy of Hogwarts A History, with protective charms placed on them to keep from being damaged. She also kept an advanced potion's kit, a full set of medicinal potions, muggle freeze-dried foods and ration meals enough for a year, a muggle first aid kit and three sets of clothes, one for mild weather, one for winter weather and one for extreme winter climates. Some nights she still shivered for hours in memory, even with those bluebell flames for warmth against the harsh days during that long winter on the run, she had felt as though her bones were rattling under her skin.

A flash of inspiration caused her to eagerly run for The Veil. She pointed her wand at rippling surface, hoping against hope that this would work. "Accio Hermione's satchel." A long moment past and nothing happened, she sagged fearing how she would survive in this foreign world. She lowered her wand arm and hung her head. Unprepared, a heavy object hit her in the chest and knocked off her feet. The slight levitation charm she'd applied to help carry the heavy loaded bag had worn off while passing through the portal. She had barely a second to register that fact before the bag exploded at the seams and all the suddenly enlarged contented erupted and rained down around her, there was the smack for books falling to the ground, the metallic clank of a cauldron, a pot, water flask and other utensils clinking together, a snow boot hit her on the shoulder before tumbling to the floor behind her with a thud. She rolled to her side narrowly dodging a knife that had slipped free of her potions kit, lodging pointed end in the earth where her leg had been. A giggle of mirth escaped her throat and she clutched her tattered bag to her body tightly, rocking joyously while wiping away a stray tear that had leaked down her cheek. Her belongings lay in haphazard piles around her but she couldn't care less in that moment all she felt was overwhelming relief. She would be okay, with her supplies she know she was prepared for anything.

Working in the Department of Mysteries, she had learned the truth of The Veil two months after becoming an Unspeakable. Largely left to her own devices, floating between departments happy to pick her brain or request her research skills, Hermione devoured every book and piece of parchment she laid eyes on. Her first instinct upon learning it was not in fact a gateway to the afterlife and an immediate death sentence, she had been to put together a survival bag, much like her work satchel with the hope that somehow Sirius had managed to survive beyond The Veil. She'd slipped into the room after hours and thrown the bag through along with an airtight canister that had a simple muggle egg-timer release. On the other side, it would let fly her paper crane message. If he was still alive, she had hoped that it would find him.

History on The Veil in the Department records said that only solid objects could pass through from their end of the _doorway. _While voices and changes in temperature were recorded from the other side, nothing else had ever come back. Aside from Sirius there were two other documented cases of people going through the Veil. One was deliberate, the other two, one being Sirius, were accidents. The Ministry had been build around The Veil to protect it from discovery, but also to protect the masses. They still didn't know what was on the other side since no one had ever reported anything back, of those that had passed through The Veil.

The early explorer, who had deliberately walked through The Veil had lingered on the other side before trying to come back. The attempt of which of course had failed. He then tried to communicate with those on the Ministry side, and had a little luck. He could be heard, but couldn't hear anything in return. It was discovered after much trial and error, that only solid objects could pass through, spells, liquids, air and dissipated on impact against the shimmering luminescent surface. They managed to cheat the limitations of this by trapping spells and enchanted liquids inside solid objects. Transfigured objects encased in airtight containers were preserved in their spelled state, water and potions in glass bottles and such also remained unaltered.

After a few weeks of review and experimentation, the communication from this side had stopped. Hermione could only speculate what had happened to the man, but considering what she had glimpsed of the world beyond the caves, she could hazard a guess that it was either the wild that took him, or boredom. Even with food, water and essentials needed to survive, one could go crazy with the silence and nothing to do to occupy the mind.

Remembering those documented experiments and her care package for Sirius now that she was clutching her own saving grace, she realized that the bag she'd sent through for Sirius was gone. Whether he had been the one to take it was uncertain, what was certain was that someone had taken it, and aside from hers the only other prints she could make out were human and large enough to belong to an adult, in the shape and of a size 10 boot.

Feeling heartened by the prospect of finding a friend, with a quick Reparo to her bag, Hermione set about situating her camp bed and sleeping bag, while repacking her newly repaired satchel, a practiced decisive wave of her wand and her undetectable extension charm back in effect. All her items carefully repacked, she put a cooking pot full of water on the fire to heat her ration meal of spaghetti and meatballs.

As she waited for the water to boil, she wondered if anyone had seen her bag fly out of her office. If Aurors were still around investigating the damage from the break in of Death Eaters there would probably be questions. She hoped that enough time had passed that the Ministry was empty for the night. It was a good thing that her office wasn't far from the Death Room. She worked in Archives. They were across the way, sharing the same corridor as the offices for the Death Room Unspeakables. Accio spells weren't very effective if summoned objects met with too many obstacles. That and revealing the secret of The Veil to anyone not working in the Department could cause no small amount of strife. There was always Obliviate, she thought with a cringe. She wasn't very good with those. Or she was too good depending on how you viewed the results. Her parents irreversible memory charm being one case. Dolohov and his Death Eater friend being another.

Hermione sat on her camp bed and warmed her hands by the heat of the fire. Looking into the flames, she pondered on the sounds outside the cave, carefully listening and cataloguing what each sound could be. In the distance she heard a howl and startled. A terrible thought of Death Eaters discovering The truth of The Veil and coming here gripped her. It had almost happened. Had Dolohov fallen through with her who knows what might have happened to her. The wolf's howl had bought one face to her mind's eye and the memory of his mad-tainted lustful eyes made her tremble, she instinctively touched the wand in her sleeve.

::: ::: :::

"How do you fare, my friend?"

Gimli rode the pony that Eomer had gifted him after they had journeyed to Edoras for King Theoden's burial. He was a cousin of Arod and had much the same temperament even for his small stature. He had been a working pony but had been left in Helm's Deep during the war after being used as a pack horse when Edoras had been emptied. This was the first time Gimli had ridden him outside Osgiliath. Not confident with his riding skill or sitting alone on the horse. He could feel Legolas' smile from where he sat astride Arod two feet height than him from the ground. "You must think yourself clever foisting me off on this beast."

"Arod thanks you for the lighter burden, friend. Fyra has gentled much, is he not agreeable?"

Gimli humphed in his comfortable saddle and reminded himself to hold the reins loosely, despite the urge to clutch at them for fear of his life. The pony had calmed considerably in temper and they'd grown accustomed to each other over months of short rides around the city. Besides Gimli felt confident that Frya knew to follow his cousin, he had done so thus far without much prompting.

The years gone by had been spent rebuilding all that had been lost to the war, homes, crops, cities. Of Legolas' kin from Mirkwood of whom had survived and fled to Lorien during the war, most had left Middle Earth for Valinor. The remaining elves, along with a few from Lorien, and the twins, Arwen's brothers from Rivendell, had settled in Ithilien and helped to rebuild the once grand city of Osgiliath. Elves, many multi-skilled as stonemasons, blacksmiths, carpenters and architects due to their long years of life blessed by the Valar, were welcomed by the people. They colonized a small area of Southern Ithilien, near the mountains and by the river. Gimli worked with the stonemasons and Legolas with the carpenters, and a few weeks out of the year, they left the city and travelled. Those long weeks during the war living under the stars and on horseback and given them taste for the untamed wilderness that made them restless when they spent too long with cobblestone underfoot and roofs overhead.

Occasionally, they travelled with Aragon's forces. King Elessar had sent out many companies of Gondor's fighting men to drive back the Easterlings still plaguing the land. Unlike the Dunlendings, who had been mislead and stirred up against the people of Rohan by Saurman, and now made efforts to broker peace for their surviving people, the Easterlings were bitter and refused to let go of their desire for more territory and power. Aragon led his men as he had led men during the war. He refused to map territory and send people to danger, while he sat safe behind the walls of Minas Tirith, no matter how much his friends and advisors counselled that it was his right and his due.

While this trip would take them close to the borders of Easterling strongholds, Legolas was hopeful they could scout without being detected. He knew the terrain intimately and considering their small company, the odds were in their favor.

Their destination was a familiar territory, abandoned but not forgotten. A few of his kin had since returned to visit also finding it barren and unwelcoming. All influence of the Valar and their kind long since faded, ravaged by the war and pillaged by both goblins and Easterlings alike. Legolas longed to see his childhood home one last time, and share some of his adventures with his friend, so at the request of Aragon to travel north and through Mirkwood took little prompting. Old sights and memories of his youth filled his mind, learning the ways of his kin, his first time holding a bow, learning to wield a blade from his father, playing and avoiding pranks by Elladan and Elrohir, visiting Rivendell for the first time and watching the stoic, fearsome and unflappable Haldir fall under the spell of Arwen and become a fool to love. He missed his friend but it wasn't a painful ache, he would see him again when he eventually journeyed to the Undying Lands himself. He glanced at Gimli at this thought. When the time came he hoped that the Valar allowed his friend to join him. They met as enemies but had grown to respect each other, through battle and the years during and following the war they had become friends. The thought of leaving Gimli behind left him feeling distressed. Who would challenge him out of apathy? Who would cause him to smile despite his heavy heart? This own kin had grown weary over his short-temper and bitterness over the years. No one bothered to attempt to lift his spirits, and after a century of nods and clipped answers no one bothered to try to befriend him.

He hadn't always felt so old and angry. Watching his youngest brother flee to the Valinor, barely more than an elfling, from a wounded heart made Legolas vow never to lose his heart at all. If you were your own hearts keeper you could never be betrayed. His brother had fallen for an older elf maiden but she had betrayed him with another. Legolas suspected that she'd played both elf males for fools, for once she had claimed both their affections she had stayed with neither one but left Mirkwood for Lorien. Presumably to start her mischief there. Legolas' mother had sent word of her to Galadriel but need not have feared. The Lady of Lorien read hearts and saw visions. Her people were well cared for under her gentle hand and keen eye. Haldir had said he'd seen the seductress leave with of the Dunedain Rangers a mere ten years after arriving in Lorien. It would be justice served to have the heart-slayer live a mortal life bound to a man. She would not torment his brother for eternity.

The forests of Mirkwood were vast and dense. The old trees almost as old as those of Fangorn, home of the Ents. The trees in Mirkwood were so tall that even with his elf-eyes he could not see the tops from the forest floor. They'd made their home in the trees, much like the elves of Lorien did. It had been a peaceful and untouched wilderness. There was no feeling of welcome now, no elvish music, voices, flutes and harps to fill the air with song and soothe the troubled soul. They were alone.

A wolf's howl in the distance gave him pause. There hadn't been wolves in Mirkwood for centuries, but then The War of the Ring had changed many things. He noticed Fyra startle at the noise and immediately grabbed his bridle putting a gentle hand on the frightened pony's nuzzle. He leaned across and sang softly. Arod whinnied familiar at the tune, feeling comforted by Legolas' melodic voice. Fyra calmed and Gimli looked up at his friend, awed once more at the gentleness the seasoned warrior could display.

"Thank you, Legolas."

"You're welcome, Gimli. Come, we will rest here for the night. Tomorrow we will reach the place of my birth."

::: ::: :::

Daylight came, and the birds woke her with their happy chirping. The sunlight sparkled on the morning dew on the grass outside the cave. The fire had died out during the night and being warm in her sleeping bag, Hermione hadn't awoke to notice. Stretching her lips and wiping the sleep from her eyes she startled to realise that she hadn't woken once. Unusually her dreams plagued by nightmares or bad memories, she tossed, turned and awoke more than once. After the war, she'd used Dreamless Sleep on occasion to get a full night's rest. This was the first time she'd slept uninterrupted without the aid of a potion. It felt wonderful, and a little worrying since she wondered if this place held some kind of enchantment over her.

Suddenly, the quiet was dispelled by angry muttering. "No food. No food for filthy, flea ridden, weeks, I'm starvin'. What good are ya if you can't sniff out food. Should strip your carcass you mangy beast!" There was a yelp follow by a wine of pain.

Hermione flinched and banished the remains of her camp fire, before she disillusioned herself. Inching along the mountain face, she peered through the trees. In the distance she saw bushes shaking wildly, as though they were been thrashed this way and that.

"Gotta be a cony, a mole or badger round 'ere someplace. Nose to the ground you hairy hog!"

There was another yelp and Hermione felt an anger boil inside her. That man was hurting whatever animal was accompanying him. They had obviously taught it to cower in obedience using fear. She wondered how long the poor thing had been beaten into submission. It reminded of her the dragon beneath Gringotts. The dragon had been afraid of bells. How had it taken to achieve that kind of conditioning? The sight of the myriad of deep old scars and chains holding it had disgusted her. She couldn't stand cruelty in any form. She gripped her wand firmly and headed toward the noise with purpose.

Hermione cast silencing charm on her boots and edged through the trees. What she saw as she got closer, stopped her cold. It wasn't a man, you could argue for all the cursing from his lips that he was more beastly than the beast he was riding. He was taller than any goblin she'd ever seen but his facial structure was certainly similar, he had oily pale skin, a hooked nose, crooked blackened teeth and stringy thinning black hair that made Professor Snape seem like Adonis.

The beast bearing the goblin resembled an overgrown cross between a hyena and pictures she'd see of wombats. Although this beast look anything but cute with it's dirty fur and long pointed canines. It's jaws hanging open like a panting dog, it's teeth dirty and exposed. It's head lifted, sniffing the air before it looked in her direction.

"Found something did ya, 'bout time," the goblin chided impatiently.

The beast emitted a threatening growl in her direction and Hermione pointed her wand, ready to fire a stunning spell.

The beast launched through the trees and Hermione yelled, "Stupefy," before diving to the left behind a tree.

"Where are ya, little rabbit," the creature called snidely, his yellow eyes darting around narrowing with sinister intent. "I'm eager to introduce 'ya to ma belly."

Hermione breath came in huge gulps, even though she knew every sound and move she made drew their attention her way. The stunner hadn't even fazed the thing. Considering it took several wizards to stun a dragon, maybe the same was true for this beast due to its size. It had stopped charging and had turned back to her. If only she could slow it down enough to save it from its cruel master, perhaps she could set it free and it wouldn't consider eating her.

The beast was charging again. She flicked her wand in its direction yelling, "Reducio." She felt a rush of displaced air a few feet from her face and a surprised and pained yelp.

She saw her hand and realized her disillusionment had faded.

"What the..." the goblin looked up at her from astride a much smaller beast, which was being squashed beneath him. It was squirming and whining and he stared down at it startled. "You're a Istari." He saw her brandish the wand in his face and he held out his curved sword. "Now see here...argh," he squealed, an arrow lodged in his throat.

Hermione whipped her head to the new threat and her eyes widened. She saw the dwarfed man and what she'd never seen before aside from in a fairytale, an elf man, both riding calmly and unharried as though what had just happened was a common occurrence.

"Are you all right, my lady?" Legolas asked, dropping fluidly from his horse and coming closer cautiously, his hands outstretched in a nonthreatening manner. "Are you hurt? Where is the warg?"

Hermione looked down at their feet where the beast was struggling beneath the dead weight of it's master.

"How can this be? The beast we were tracking was ten times this size," Legolas said picking up the warg by the scruff of the neck. It hung there snapping and flailing at him helplessly

Sending a silent lockjaw spell at the beast, Hermione took it from the elf and held it in the crook of her arm, putting a hand to it's head and scratching lightly behind its ears, she cooed at it softly, "Hush, it's okay. If I free you, will you go peacefully?" She looked into it's keen yellow eyes. It whined and she set it on the ground at her feet. Turning to the elf, she enquired of him, "Will you let the beast leave?"

The small warg backed up to the nearest tree, cowering and eying each one of them frightfully.

Legolas regarded her with concern. "They are savage beasts, my lady. If he were not enchanted to such a size, he would have attacked without provocation."

"He speaks the truth, lass. Once, one of those near took my head when I was trapped. They know no other way but to kill."

Hermione clenched her first. "Under his master's hand he was taught to fear and knows nothing but cruelty. He needs to be given freedom to decide his own fate. He is a creature, yes, but he is an intelligent creature. Aren't you?" she asked of the beast meeting it's gaze. It dipped its head and nudged her outstretched hand. "Engorgio," she whispered, the beast growing rapidly before her eyes. Once it was it's regular size, she urged it to go. It walked cautiously past the horses which gave it a wide berth, stomping their hooves worriedly. Once the warg was several paces from them, keeping eye contact with Hermione, it turned and took off at a run. She waved her wand at its retreating hind, "Finite incantatem." A moment later they heard a howl.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her middle and discreetly placed her wand back in her sleeve. "Thank you for saving me," she said, nodding at the fallen creature at her feet.

Gimli harrumphed. "Goblins. Him, I can assure you, would have gleefully taken your liver."

"I am Legolas of the Woodland elves, and this is my friend Gimli, son of Gloin. If I may ask, my lady, how did you come to be in this forest? Those that dwell in these woods have long since abandoned this land." Legolas offered her a hand up and she took it, the warmth and touch of his skin immediately infusing her cheeks with a blush.

Hermione extracted her hand quickly, at which he gave her a thoughtful look but said nothing. "I ah, well... " she waved in the direction of the cave. "I was exploring. I enjoy traveling you see," she said hoping her brain would speed up with an adequate explanation for presence in what seemed to be curious circumstances.

"Alone, lass? Who are your kin?" Gimli asked with a horrified look in his eyes. Hermione was sure his face was a mask of shock under his thick beard. "We've been travelling for days and seen hide nor tail of a single soul till this moment. Where did you come from? Those warg tracks were the only recent ones we found."

"You were hunting?" Hermione asked, unable to hide her shock. She could have slapped herself then, however. What else would they be doing in the forest, carrying a bow, swords and an axe?

"You'll come to no harm from us, my lady. We are scouts of Gondor, allies of King Elessar, these woods are perilous to travel alone and unarmed. If you fear to tell us your name at least let escort you to your encampment."

Hermione shook her head. "There is no encampment."

Legolas regarded her in surprise, "You are truly exploring alone? Even as an elfling adventuring in these woods, my brothers or those protecting our borders were always nearby," he said the last part wistfully and Hermione wondered where his family were now.

Hermione hiked the short distance to the cave while her mystical rescuers followed behind silently. She quickly went inside and shrunk and packed her belongings, slinging her bag over her head. She met them at the mouth cave.

"This cave was once guarded by the Heren Istarion. Legends say it housed secrets from another world. What do you know of it, my lady?"

"Hermione," she said tucking a wayward curly lock behind her ear. "My name is Hermione and I guess I'd like to ask, what does Heren Istarion mean?"

Gimli and Legolas shared a look of confusion. "Lady Hermione, you wield that pointed stick like a Ithryn would a staff. Are you not one of the Ithryn? Are you not a wizard?"


	3. Truth

Chapter 3: Truths

Hermione worried her lower lip with her teeth before slouching in resignation, they certainly seemed concerned for her safety and they suspected half the truth already what was the harm in telling the rest?

"I want to show you something," Hermione said turning to go back into the cave.

Gimli dismounted awkwardly still a long way from being a consummate horseman. Legolas hesitated just outside the cave. He looked at her questioningly, "I can not follow, Lady Hermione. Even if I could see you, there is a warning for those attempting to enter."

"It is perfectly safe, and I'll lower the-" she waved her wand lowering the wards and charms protecting the cave. "Can you see me know?" she asked with a small grin. "For argument's sake can I see this warning?"

Legolas pointed above the mouth of the cave. Hermione stepped back and careened her head to see where he was pointing, to Hermione it looked like elaborate chicken scratch etched into stone. At her perplexed frown, Legolas gave her a small smile of his own. "None shall enter by decree of the Order of the Wizards. All know that only a fool would dare to defy a wizard."

"I am not a fool," Hermione argued, fixing him with a no-nonsense look, crossing her arms over her chest and straightening to her full height.

Legolas looked affronted that she'd misinterpreted his words and Gimli laughed at the both of them. "So you are not a wizard, nor do we think you a fool, lass. However being a stranger to these woods, perhaps even these lands, you are a mystery with secrets of that I am certain."

"Was it to clothes?" she asked. "Woman always wear dresses here don't they?" Hermione heaved a sigh, just her luck being stuck in the mythical Middle Ages.

"Most do but not all. Dressing in male attire was a clever thinking, lass. Wizard or not, men are less likely to be attacked while alone."

"_She will need more than men's trousers to disguise the fact she's a woman," _Legolas muttered to himself.

Hermione frown at him trying to decipher what language he was speaking, it wasn't anything she recognized and so far they'd conversed with her in formal Old English, with Gimli's twang reminding her a little of Hagrid. Her eyes misted at the thought of the gentle half-giant. She hadn't seen Hagrid since early last year, when she'd gone to inspect the repairs to Hogwarts.

"I want to trust you to help me," Hermione admitted, "Where I'm from there is a strict code of secrecy of wizarding kind from the non-magical population, for our own protection. Centuries ago my kind were hunted and killed almost to extinction.

Legolas looked aghast. "How is that possible? Wizards are powerful, some would say even immortal. The Valar will always send them back until their task is done. As is with elves, we don't die, even if our bodies are destroyed here in Middle Earth, our spirit journeys on to the Undying Lands."

"Must be nice for you then, knowing with certainty you will see your family and loved ones again. Unfortunately where I'm from, dead is dead. I'll bleed red just like any other human being," she said with no small amount of bitterness, for all the loss they'd suffered it didn't do a lot to shift the ever present prejudice against muggleborns in wizarding society. Despite what he said to the contrary, she still believed that she gotten her position in the Department of Mysteries as best friend to The Savior of the Wizarding World.

"If you won't enter the cave then let me show you how I came to be here." Hermione stepped closer to Gimli. While Legolas stood closer to where she was, the dwarf seemed the warmer, more approachable of the two and she felt drawn to him possibly because he reminded her of Hagrid. "Will you allow me to show you from my memories?"

The dwarf gave her a wide-eyed look. "You can speak into my mind and hear my thoughts, like the Lady of the Golden Woods? Lady Galadriel?"

Hermione shook her head. "I am not a great legilimens, passable I suppose but I can't do it wandless," she said gesturing with her wand. "I can only see your thoughts if we keep skin and eye contact, but I will be letting you in my mind for this, so your secrets are safe from me." She gently touched his cheek and stared into his fire whiskey-colored eyes. "Legilimens."

Images came into focus in her mind's eye like scenes from a disjointed dream. She let him lead, watching as he questioned where she came from, what she was capable of and whether she would be friend or foe. She watched, reliving the memory of her actions during the war, how she fought the Death Eaters, how she cared for her friends, the sleepless nights she'd stayed up doing seemingly endless research to help and protect Harry. The months she'd planned for their search for the Horcruxes, how each passing year she managed to keep the balance between her muggle family and her more recently adopted magical one, until she was forced to sent them away. The nightmares that had continued to plagued her after the war. He wanted to know her, really know her, and his questions seemed more sincere and insightful than anyone had ever cared to see her before. When she felt him slow and fix on the image of her resting on this side of The Veil, talking with Harry with what she believed to be the last time, she was ready to pull away. The feelings she'd had at that moment were still too raw and relieving it with him, felt far too personal.

""_Go Harry, I know you're still there. You're stubborn like that. There's nothing you can do for me. The Veil has existed long before the Ministry. They built around it. All I ask is that you don't forget me. I'll never forget you... Goodbye Harry."_

Gimli blinked as she broke the connection, and took her hand before she could draw away completely. "For as long as you're with us, lass, I pledge you my protection. You will not be alone."

Hermione struggled to hold back tears that prickled her eyes, she drew in a measured calming breath and nodded her acceptance. "Thank you, Gimli. Your kindness is appreciated. I count myself very fortunate that you found me."

Legolas watched them silently, a strange feeling twisting in his chest at the sight before him. A beautiful, mysterious woman, her aura powerful yet gentle and pure. And here she was trusting one boisterous, scruffy and largely ill-mannered dwarf. Her instincts seemed to be sound however, since Gimli had just devoted himself to her welfare. While he refused to explore his feelings on the matter he could admit that he felt a touch slighted that she hadn't been inclined to share her mind with him. Before that thought could cause him further turmoil, he heard his friend speak again.

"I noticed that you lost someone to this Veil before. If you wish to have any hope of finding him, you must consult with the Rangers of these parts. Your best chance will be to meet with Faramir, Prince of Ithilien. He is a great scholar as well seasoned Captain. He studied under Gandalf for a time if I'm not mistaken."

"It is true," Legolas put in. "Gandalf the White was a powerful wizard and kept many records in Minas Tirith while he mentored Faramir. If there is anything to learn about The Order of the Istari, you will find it there."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I will travel with you, if you will allow me to. I don't want to be a burden. You mentioned that you have a job to do here."

Legolas shook his head. "You will not be a burden. However you may wish to change your attire into something less..."

"Conspicuous," she suggested, arching an eyebrow in a teasing fashion. With a wave of her wand, she transfigured her clothes to match his riding breeches, grey tunic and elvish armor, stylised with whirls, matching metals and raised ridges.

Legolas' mouth twitched with a smirk, he wondered if she had any inkling at all that she'd just declared herself one of his house. The color of his tunic, not to mention the specific markings on his chest armor were the marked design of the descendants of King Thranduil. He found he quite enjoyed the thought of outwardly proclaiming her his own.

Hermione braided her hair quickly in a similar fashion to Legolas' hair and tucked her wand under the leather braces now adorning her wrists. "I figure I'll blend in better dressing like you than I would a girl or a dwarf right?" she pointed out cheekily.

Gimli chuckled heartily. "Prettiest warrior elf I've ever seen."

Hermione blushed and started walking down the path ahead, so that she wouldn't have to explain her embarrassment. No one had called her pretty before, well except her parents, and Victor at the Yule Ball. But then if she hadn't managed to pull off pretty then, it was never going to happen. That transformation had taken hours.

Legolas mounted Arod quickly and pulled up alongside her, offering her his outstretched hand. "He will bear us both easily, Lady Hermione. It will be a long journey to Ithilien from here."

Hermione looked up at him, her blush still rosy on her cheeks, meeting his gaze, she hesitated only a moment before she took his hand. He pulled her up effortlessly behind him, never riding a horse before, let alone without a saddle, Hermione immediately clung tightly to him, before remembering herself and loosening her hold with a quickly muttered apology.

Legolas merely smiled to himself at her nervousness and urged Arod onward.

"Before we return to Ithilien we must first see to the Northern border of these forests."

"It will be two-days ride there and back. If you wish to remain here we can return for you. No one would enter the cave," Legolas offered.

"Hermione shook her head, not that Legolas could see her properly. She looked to Gimli. "If you're sure it's no trouble, I would like to come alone. I have to explore this world sometime and I feel much safer with you both as my guides."

"Then it's settled," Gimli announced with a wink. "Onward Fyre." He urged the pony with a jab of his heels and the pony darted forward before jerking to a stop. Almost sending the dwarf spilling off. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're right completely unnecessary. On you go," he said with a nod at the pony's annoyed neh, it's mane flicking him in the face. "infernal creature," he grumbled unhappily.

Hermione hid her mouth behind her hand so he wouldn't see her grin. It wouldn't do to offend her new-found friend even if he really was the best contradiction she'd met since Hagrid, all unpolished, gruff and fearsome looking exterior, good-hearted, honorable and loyal underneath

They travelled most of the day through forest away from the Mountains of Mirkwood, heading toward the Forest River before entering the last stronghold Legolas' father, Thranduil had kept before leaving Middle Earth after the war. It was an old woods beneath the shadow of The Lonely Mountain, bordered by the Grey Mountains in the north and the river in the south. They had travelled through Mirkwood from the east, passing by Dol Guldur before finding Hermione near The Old Forest Road. Their journey so far had been quiet but with enemies of Gondor and her allies still found in every part of the region, that could soon change at any moment. They kept a wary eye out.

When Gimli suggested they rest by the river before crossing at next daybreak, Hermione was only too happy to slide from the saddle, unto unsteady legs. Smiling at Legolas in shy gratitude when he kept her from stumbling, she gave him a nod when she felt her strength return to her jelly-like limbs. The ride had been so easy that she hadn't even been aware of the fact that her legs had gone to sleep.

Hermione set her bag down, found a small clearing between the trees and enlarged her tent, she set up her camp bed and laid out her sleeping bag, before dusting off her hands and bringing her pot to the river for water.

While she could have easily filled it magically, a lot of the time she preferred to do things the muggle way. Not only did she feel that it conserved her magic but it help her stay connected to her roots. While she'd never felt like she completely fit in the muggle world, her parents were muggles and even though they might never remember her, especially now that she was gone, she felt that if she didn't make an effort to hang onto her muggle roots, she might forget them too. And the thought of that felt like a betrayal, worse than obliviating them without their permission. They were her parents, and while they weren't magical, she owed much of who she was to their love and care before they had allowed her to discover the unexplored part of herself in the wizarding world. So when it came to menial tasks, she used the two hands she had and good old-fashioned elbow grease. Scrubbing cauldrons for Professor Snape without magic had certainly helped keep those muscles fluid.

Magic couldn't solve everything, using smarts and keeping active could often save you better than magic ever could. Magic hadn't helped her survive the Cruciatus Curse, and her many near death experiences at Hogwarts. Clearheaded-ness and muggle pain management techniques were the key there. Her father had suffered migraines regularly, and he was a firm believer in good rest, fresh air and lots of purified water. He taught her meditation and deep breathing exercises. While Bellatrix had tortured her, truthfully, it was a near thing that she'd been able to keep her wits. She thanked her father every day.

Filling her pot, Hermione noticed Gimli rolling out a sleeping mat under a tree. "You're welcome to sleep in the tent, if you like. There's more than one room," she added quickly.

Gimli shook his head. "Thank you, lass, but we're used to the elements out here. I have a bed of fine furs back home. Probably sleep too heavily if I took to comforts. Need one eye open for danger."

"Oh you don't have to worry about that. I can cast wards to wake us if anything comes close."

Legolas had been quietly watching the other side of the river but spoke up upon hearing her comment. "I don't require rest as others would. I can rest my mind when the task at hand does not require much of my focus. Or I can rest my body, while my mind stays on guard. You need not be concerned for us. Place your wards if they give you comfort."

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. Did he always have to sound so perfect? There was no possible way should could ever be in the same league as him. He was incredibly tall and lean, probably all wiry muscle, so elegant, composed and beautiful, he didn't need to sleep, nor did he seem to get tired, even Gimli suffered as she did, he was rubbing his legs down and he hadn't felt ashamed to let out a weary groan of happiness that their ride was over for now.

Legolas on the other hand was infuriatingly immaculate without effort and so proper. He was friends with a dwarf (could probably speak dwarf) could read the Istari's language, took greater care with the English language than anyone else she knew and looked like he could handle himself in any kind of fight magical or not without breaking a sweat. She hoped that Sirius was alive. At least he'd never made her feel inadequate (most of the time, he constantly teased her for her book smarts). When she hadn't been afraid of him for Harry's sake, before she knew the truth about who had really betrayed the Potters, she'd considered an overgrown boy. His recklessness and petulant attitude at having to stay hidden for his own safety had her constantly rolling her eyes. Some people never grew up. Then again she felt she could cut him a little slack, he'd spent years in Azkaban. From what she'd seen of the place, it would drive anyone crazy. For all his immaturity, there was no disputing that he could handle himself in a duel. Even Professor McGonagall had praised him as a gifted student, even if he was a trouble maker.

The water was boiling over the little fire she'd made, and after heating three meals, she carried the packets along with two extra transfigured spoons to where Gimli sat on a large boulder, his feet hanging in the river.

"Where is Legolas?" she asked, handing him a packet of chicken arrabiata.

Gimli pointed across the river. "Scouting across the river. Thank you, lass," he said taking the food she offered, hoeing into it with gusto.

Hermione smiled, he obviously trusted her not to poison his food, or he was so hungry that the thought never crossed his mind. She sat down on the rock, folding her legs under her, her chest armor clinked against her arms and she wrinkled her arms. "Do you think this is really necessary?"

When a heavy twang sounded, reverberating off the metal, she amended her thought to, _yes it really was necessary_.

The arrow splashed into the water and Gimli roughly pulled her behind him. Hermione drew her wand and cast a quick Protego, before brushing unruly locks out of her face so she could actually see what was happening. She could hear Legolas shouting but couldn't make out what he was saying.

Gimli was on his feet and hopping while pulling on his boots, more than once he fell on his rump in the attempt.

Hermione shadowed him, staying low and watchful, refreshing her spell on them periodically. Especially when two arrows managed to glance off the protective shield around the dwarf's helmet.

She couldn't see where the arrows were coming from directly and she didn't want to fire randomly at the risk of accidentally hitting Legolas. The smell reached her nose before she saw it, thick plumes of acrid smoke curling through the trees. The forest was burning.

Legolas was crossing the river in great strides, still shooting arrows from the direction he'd come from as he ran.

Hermione broke away from Gimli's side and made for the tent, the warm food on the rock abandoned and forgotten. She shrunk the tent, bed, table and all in two flicks of her wand and summoned them. Packing the miniature bundle into her bag, she went to get the horses, while Gimli was hurrying over to catch up with her.

"What I could do with a spear," he grumbled, climbing onto the pony, that Hermione held. He twisted momentarily to tie something to his saddle and cover it with his pack.

Legolas took hold of Arod's mane and swung himself up and astride. He offered Hermione his hand, but she stood frozen watching the flames appear on the tree tops, and finally enormous spiders began to spill out of the forest, heading for water's edge.

"The orcs drove them this way from the mountains. There will be no passing this way until they have moved on, hurry," he urged Hermione, reaching for her again.

Hermione blindly took his hand and allowed him to help her. They nudged the horses into a gallop away from the coming black swarm. These creatures were almost a mirror of Aragog and his children, and Hermione began to understand how their worlds could be parallel in more than just theory. Goblins, giant spiders, dwarves, wizards... had they recently experienced a war, or was she stumbling into the middle of one.

As the horses tore down the path between the trees, Hermione turned back and watched the scene they had left. Following the spiders were goblin-like creatures, who stood much taller and were heavily muscled, they were waving lit torches and shot arrows at the spiders driving them forward. Their beady eyes and hideous teeth flashed maliciously, and one of them even licked their lips leering at her.

Hermione shuddered and unconsciously leaned closer to Legolas. They looked terrifying, the only consolation to her was that they seemed to be limited by only a crude ability to do harm. While their appearance reminded her of Voldemort's inhuman face, they couldn't kill her at this distance with a spell as he could have.

They rode until it was dark and she could barely make anything around them, the moonlight struggling to piece the dense treetops above them. Legolas' elvish sight, and the horse's being their only guide, Hermione began to droop with nothing to distract the fatigue beginning to weigh on her. They'd ridden all day and she'd had two adrenaline rushes to add to her exhaustion. She was beginning to fear that if she ever had walk on her own again, she'd be left with a permanent waddle from all the bouncing around. If only she could apparate.

There was a groan that came from their right and Hermione startled from her stupor when Gimli slid off his pony and hit ground.

Hermione scrambled and mostly fell from the still moving horse. "He's hurt," she cried. Reaching his side, she pulled him into her lap and noticed a thin arrow tangled in this wiry thick hair just below his helmet. Following the shaft with her fingers, she realized that it was loose and pulled it free. Coating the arrow-head was a sticky substance that looked a little familiar with its shimmering black-blue hue. She sniffed it. _Doxy venom_, she immediately thought.

Legolas had dropped to one knee beside her and took the arrow she offered him. "He's been poisoned, it seems similar to a venom in my world but I don't have the antidote," she said fearfully. Snatching open her bag, she pointed, "Accio bezoar." When the small stone was in her palm, she urged Gimli's mouth open and pushed it in as deep as it would go. It triggered his gag reflex and Hermione murmured quietly, encouraging him to swallow, he stopped struggling at the sound of her voice and tears slid down her cheeks though she was unconscious of them as she brushed her hand soothingly over his forehead.

"This will only slow the poison's effect, it won't heal him," she said worriedly.

"I can search for herbs that will neutralize this poison, it is the blood of the blue fayerye. He will need a healer." He stood quickly and disappeared into the trees.

Hermione stroked Gimli clammy skin and squeezed his shoulder. "Hang on. You're going to be fine. You're strong, you can hold on, I know you can."

Legolas returned and had crushed herbs in his hands, he removed Gimli's helmet and separated the knotted strands of hair till he saw the small raised wound at the base of his skull. He pressed the herbs there. "I need to bind them in place."

Hermione tore a strip from the bottom of her tunic and Legolas bandaged the crushed herbs to Gimli's head.

"He needs treatment. If I could find the ingredients to make an antidote, I would but this world is still foreign to me... It would take too long."

"Even with Arod riding without rest it would still take another three days to seek the help he needs."

Hermione looked aghast. "He doesn't have that long!"

"Do you think I do not know this," Legolas hissed losing his temper.

Hermione scowled at him. "You'd think that if you were going looking for trouble you'd be more prepared. Or is it because you're immortal that you don't feel concern for mortal wounds?"

Legolas met her gaze with furious eyes before a warning in his heart cautioned him to pause. She was right, he did not fear death and he knew that in battle he never paused to consider personal risk. He fought bravely, swiftly and with centuries of honed skill. He never hesitated to wait for those fighting along side him, he expected them to handle themselves as he did. In his mind, if the where unskilled they did not belong among the fighting. To his reasoning it was that simple. Gimli's mortality never felt more real to him than in that moment when her words rang true.

Unlike some of the elves who had lived in Rivendell and had studied healing under Lord Elrond, Legolas himself had never been ill, nor had any of his kin ever taken ill, so the need nor the interest had ever taken him. He had only a passing knowledge of healing from what he'd learned from traveling with Aragorn and other Rangers in the last few decades.

They stared at each other both still angry but instead of saying anything more they let the matter go. The torch lights in the distance and scuttling and screeching sounds drawing closer spurred them into action.

"We can not linger," he said picking up Gimli with ease, bearing his weight on one shoulder.

"And he can't ride," she pointed out stiffly, still smarting from his raised voice. This was the first time she'd seen him unnerved and it made her uneasy and she couldn't wipe the look of his suddenly deathly cold blue eyes from her mind. They had sent a chill through her before her indignation had fired up. "He won't make it three more days. I have an idea but you have to trust me," she said firmly, brokering no argument. She knew she was using her swotting stance, but it had worked for her this long and she knew she was Gimli's best chance for getting the help he needed.

Legolas paused and took in her look of fierce determination before nodding slowly. "Trust does not come easily for me, my lady. Please do not take offense."

"Of course not," Hermione replied, not bothering to disguise the hurt in her voice. Why was it so easy for Gimli to trust her but not this elf? "I need you to show me where to take him, and I will take him there immediately."

Legolas looked at her incredulously. "That is not possible. No wizard I have ever seen is capable of such a thing."

Hermione grit her teeth and expelled an impatient breath while stomping her foot. "You can argue with me or you can show me, we both know this is our only option if we want to save his life."

If it had been any other situation, he would have laughed at her manner. She stood no taller than his chest, had no fighting skill that he had borne witness to but she had the look of someone who much desired to pummel him. Grudgingly, he conceded her point that Gimli needed immediate care. However, he continued to quirk an eyebrow at her in skepticism of her ability to manage that feat. "Rohan is our closest ally. King Eomer in Edoras will give him the care he requires. I will ride as fast as Arod can safely manage. I wish you both speed and safety, my lady."

Hermione noticed that he'd stopped calling her by her name. Either she'd offended him more than she'd intended to making her point earlier, or she made him nervous. Whatever the case, he was probably second guessing how wise it was to be too familiar with her. She bit her lip before reaching for his hand, touching his face was likely to spook him permanently. "Legilimens."

Once she had the image of both King Eomer and the City of Edoras firmly in her mind, she took Gimli's arm. Legolas lowered the unconscious dwarf to lean against her and reluctantly stepped back to give her room to move.

Hermione nodded once and met his troubled blue gaze before setting her mind's eye on her destination. She apparated.


	4. Her Guardian

Chapter 4: Her Guardian

Hermione landed in the Golden Hall of Meduseld. King Éomer was out of his throne on the dias and advancing quickly upon her arrival. He was exactly as Legolas had remembered, although his look was anything but welcoming. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword where it hung at his hip. She swayed on her feet and struggled to remain standing, never letting go of Gimli.

"King Éomer, he's been poisoned. Please... help him," she managed to say, before she collapsed.

The guards were startled and afraid by her sudden appearance. The Elders of Rohan stood as their King had and looked just as fearful as the guards. While many knew Gimli, the stranger bearing their wounded ally seemed too powerful not to remain wary of. The Rohirrim took to arms and prepared to defend their King and the safety of all in Edoras.

Éowyn, who had left the hall to walk with Lothíriel after the evening meal, returned to see the commotion. She was about to ask after the threat which had caused such a mass call to arms when she noticed Gimli. "Has no one sent for the healer? Horein, fetch the Master Healer at once."

One of the Rohirrim bent to take Hermione by the arm, and a blur of black rushed by Éowyn from a pillar closest to the pit of flame that warmed the Hall.

"Hunter, heel!" she called, terrified that he would attack the unconscious stranger that everyone seemed stunned by. The elders looked the most afraid. It was as though they'd seen Sauron himself reborn. What happened next couldn't have surprised her more.

The guard holding the stranger was knocked off his feet and pinned to the floor, Hunter landing on chest. Éowyn clapped a hand over her mouth, her husband's loyal companion had just attacked a guard. The 100-pound hound climbed off the fallen man and turned to the others descending on whom she could now clearly see was a female, dressed in elvish armour. Faramir had said that Hunter had joined their company years ago and had followed him everywhere since. The hound was a brilliant scout, loyal protector and unmatched as a hunter, he could find game better than any dog they had ever seen. He was usually so even tempered, friendly, she had forgotten that this dog had seen the frontlines of the war.

Faramir had joked once that he wondered if Hunter was a Maia sent by the Valar to watch over men, since he and Gandalf had had to part ways early in the war. Hunter seemed to have an uncanny ability to understand everything going on around him, a sixth sense for danger and was an intuitive judge of character. He'd saved Faramir's life in Osgiliath more than once and also pulled him from the river when he'd been struck down from the wall while stationed as a night guard on the South Gate. From that moment forward Hunter had joined Faramir's company of Rangers officially and they'd been inseparable since. He had remained in Edoras at Faramir's request to watch over Éowyn since her husband had to return to Ithilien following Éomer's wedding celebrations, and she had wished to stay on.

Hunter had never attacked a man that wasn't a threat and had been perfectly content in Edoras until now. With his bared teeth, his wiry ink-coloured coat seemingly crackling with energy, his keen eyes almost alight with a yellow glow, he was very much the picture of a fearsome war dog. Éomer and the other guard held their ground, but made no further moves to approach and slowly stayed their weapons.

Éowyn neared and held out her hands in a supplicating manner. "I will not harm them, Hunter. They both need to see a healer. Will you allow me to help? I will make sure no one removes you from her side. She is a friend, yes?"

Hunter met her eyes and whined softly, nudging her outstretched hand with his nose. She scratched behind his ears affectionately. "Come, Hunter, the healer is here now. Put them in my chambers," she instructed the guards.

Sirius followed the wife of his friend, keeping a watchful, narrowed gaze on the guards bearing Hermione. The men of Rohan were seasoned warriors, they were taught to show enemies no mercy and act without hesitation. A wrong word uttered would mean instant death. And any foreigners entering their lands were to be brought before the King. No exceptions. He would not allow his guard to falter while they were close by.

Sirius didn't have the same familiarity with the men of Rohan as he did with the Dúnedain Rangers and the men of Gondor. When he'd first met Faramir, the man had reminded him of Remus, not just in the fair complexion but in character. They both had a quiet inner strength and intellect that was often misjudged and under-valued. Faramir was a brave and honorable man, but while he had the respect and loyalty of his men, he seemed alone. Misunderstood and largely ignored by his father as the lesser son, he focused all his attention on working to gain his father's approval. Burdened by the weight of responsibility of his position and lack of love from his father, he had isolated himself emotionally. It had been remarkably easy to befriend him. People confessed all sorts of things when they had a captive, seemingly mute audience.

In return for the kindness of shelter and food, Sirius offered his skill using his canine nose and his wizard's brain. Being an animagus, he'd been unmatched as a hunter and scout. He'd protected countless lives during their war and it had been a blessing to feel useful and needed after previous years of imprisonment and later being forced into hiding.

Éowyn would take care of Hermione. She was a woman of her word and a force to be reckoned with. Those fooled by her feminine grace and pale beauty were caught unaware and on the wrong end of a skilled blade. There was also no catching her once she was mounted on her stallion, the wind seemed to bow to her will as the White Lady of the horse-lords.

He had thought himself sentenced to death at the mercy of The Veil. He survived in the wild in his animagus form, more wild dog than wizard in dog clothing. It wasn't till he'd happened to come across the Rangers that he'd started to regain his mind and break the hold his animal instincts held over him. Sheltered and in the company of like-minded men, he regained his will and his humanity. Well feed and with a new sense of purpose he had thrived, nearly doubled his weight and became solid well-defined muscle on a frame that had been close to nothing but flesh and bone.  
It came as a surprise to get a note that landed on his nose last year, while he was sleeping. The small paper bird had woken him and cause him to sneeze at the subtle fragrance that lingered on it. It seemed familiar but he couldn't place the memory. He collected the enchanted object and padded away quietly to transform and read it.

_Care package from beyond The Veil. Sorry I can't do more. HG_

Sirius grinned. Well he'd be damned, that freckled swot, bossy little thing that she was, saved his life using a time-turner, had done it again. Defied the odds and floored him, when he'd thought his fate sealed and his old life done, she'd figure out he wasn't dead and sent him something from beyond The Veil. If he should be so lucky there could be a change of clothes. Even with regular baths and the odd Scourgify these ones were getting on in years and it was actually starting to show in his animagus form. His fur was feeling a bit thin in patches.

Being in Edoras for a King Theoden's burial, it had only taken a short apparition trip to check the cave. Her care package turned out to be seemingly countless food packets, a spare wand, three changes of clothes and books. He had snorted upon seeing them. Was she mad? What was he supposed to do with them? A dog wasn't supposed to read and even shrunken he wasn't going to lug around the extra weight. Knowing how she'd probably cry over their fate if he dumped them, he hid them in the library in the Golden Hall.

It had been almost two years since that day and now here she was in the flesh. Strangely dressed, as though ready to do battle with broadswords and in the company of one this world's war heroes, his mind ran wild in speculation as to how she'd come to be in Middle Earth. Was she a crusader wherever she went? And what of Harry, and the Order? Was Voldemort gone for good this time? Had the side of Light won the war? Had Hermione escaped here to avoid a new rule of wizards against muggleborns? That thought caused a shiver to rip through his body. He desperately hoped that was not the case.

He had feared for Harry and his fellow Order members constantly. It had seemed a long road for his godson to be ready to face his enemy. He had searched for answers about The Veil, but beyond knowing that it was protected by the Istari, there had been really no wizards around to question at the time. Saurman was banished, now dead, Sauron wasn't an option and Gandalf had since passed over the sea and had been unreachable for most of the war. From all he had overheard from Faramir, they had been the only known wizards of this world.

A healer and Éowyn tended to Hermione, while Éomer and the Master Healer looked over the dwarf.

Hermione was wearing a curious outfit, he didn't recall ever seeing such armour. Sirius snuck closer to his mistress to overhear what was being said.

"I know this style. It is of the elves living in Ithilien. Since she appeared with Gimli, I would wager that it is a match of what Legolas wears. How can she be kin? She is not an elf."

"I don't claim to know all there is to know of the elves, sister, but Lord Elrond was half-elven. It is possible she could be elven although she does not appear so."

The healer looking after Hermione turned to Éowyn. "She is merely exhausted. I can not see any injury and her heart beats steady, her breathing is not labored. With rest and a nourishing broth, she will recover."

Éowyn nodded and left the room to collect something clean and comfortable for Hermione to wear. When she returned with a warm basin of water and a cloth, Sirius ducked his head down to preserve Hermione's modesty.

Divesting her charge of the armor and tunic she wore, Éowyn was perplexed to see the padded lacy undergarment the woman wore. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen. It had moulded cups that hugged the breasts. Highly immodest yet she couldn't argue that they would probably provide good support while riding. She wondered if it was an elvish design also. Leaving it on, she set to work about cleansing the woman's skin of dirt and grime.

Éomer had brought in a curtained divider so that their guests could remain together and also have a little privacy. Gimli remained unconscious yet Éomer had told her that the Master Healer was hopeful for a full recovery. He had administered their strongest poisons antidote and Gimli seemed to be more comfortable, his colour was returning and his breathing stronger.

Setting the wash cloth aside, Éowyn eased the nightgown over the woman's head and gently lifted her arms threading them through the sleeves. It was a simple, loose, pale green linen gown that gathered at the waist with a silver laced girdle. She left the girdle loosely tied to keep her patient comfortable.

Looking over at where Hunter lay on the floor near the bed, Éowyn asked of him, "Are you going to tell me who she is?"

Sirius lifted his head and inclined it thoughtfully while making a decision. Never losing eye contact with his adopted mistress, he shifted to human form.

Éowyn let out a soft gasp as the large black hound melted into the form of a tall, handsome man with twinkling grey-coloured eyes. "Faramir suspects but to see..."  
"Your husband is a very clever man," Sirius said with a bow. "Sirius Black, at your service. Although in my canine form friends have called me by Padfoot or Snuffles."  
Éowyn shook her head. "I prefer Hunter. It is who you are to us. Even as a man you have that look in your eyes."

"My lady?"

"That woman are to be pursued like game," Éowyn said teasing. "Know this, I will make certain you are locked out of the bathing and private chambers from now on.  
Sirius looked put out but didn't argue. "If I told you that sometimes the animal inside overrules my human judgement would you forgive my wanderings?" he asked his lips turning up at the edges.

Éowyn narrowed her eyes at him. "A lady of Rohan is not easily fooled. If I catch you sneaking your nose into the women's baths when we return to Emyn Arnen, I will have you gelded. Do we have an accord?" She arched an perfect golden eyebrow and twitched a smile at Sirius aghast look.

"You are an evil woman. A fierce and just woman but that keen mind of yours can be used for darkness."

"Be the man of honor I know you to be in your heart and your future heirs will remain safe."

Sirius laughed. "Planning to marry me off already?"

"I would not dream if such a thing. A despair to think on a poor woman whom could survive your charm more than a moment. Truly I would fear for her heart. Now tell me how you came to my husband and who this woman is to you?"

Sirius nodded to Hermione's sleeping form. She is the best friend of my godson. Her name is Hermione Granger. I owe her a Wizard's Debt for she saved my life. In my world there was also a war and to see her here, I fear that the outcome was not as we had hoped. She is very smart, impossibly good hearted but bossier than anyone I've ever met. She treats everyone not in a position of authority as dunderheaded children."

"So you are both Maiar? Why did you not reveal yourself before? She is powerful. From the faces of the Elders they fear her. As you are also gifted, you have the ability to alter your form." Sirius didn't tell her that wasn't all he could do, he'd shocked her enough for one night.

"The reaction of the Elders and the Rohirrim are exactly what stopped me from revealing myself. I had survived war already before being sent to this world, would you begrudge me staying in the shadows of another war? If my abilities had been known you can be sure the enemy would have come after me. I would have been a death sentence to everyone around me. I helped as best I could without drawing attention."

"You are right," Éowyn said quietly. "Such Power is best kept hidden. Then no man can covet or misuse it."

"Speaking of. Our girl made quite an entrance. I'd like to fix that. It would only stir trouble if they remember what they believe her to be."

Éowyn appeared distressed by the thought but nodded in understanding. "Would you have me forget?"

Sirius shook his head. "There is Faramir and yourself, my lady, there are no others I trust more. I will return shortly."

Sirius obliviated everyone in the Great Hall. Éomer and his wife were notably absent but he wasn't concerned. Éomer could be counted on not to act rashly, and he had Faramir's trust so that was good enough for Sirius, for now.

He shifted to animagus form and pawed at the door till Éowyn opened it and ushered him in again. Once the door was closed and latched, he shifted back.

Éowyn wrung her hands nervously and gestured to the bed. Hermione was twitching, the bedcovers tangled around her. "She won't rouse and she is sweating as though taken with fever. She started this way shortly after you left us."

Sirius watched the way Hermione's limbs seized before releasing, her body sagging to the bed, before the tremors started again. He knew immediately what was happening and felt fear take him, he'd seen these effects before in Frank and Alice Longbottom. Their tremors were eventually treated at St. Mungo's but by then the damage was done. Their minds unable to cope with the constant pain they had lost their grip on reality, madness taking them.

Aftershocks from the Crucio Curse weren't as severe as the curse itself but long-term, untreated, recurrent seizures were dangerous. "Where is her bag?"

Éowyn lifted the bag from where she'd placed it under Hermione's bed.

Sirius had hoped to leave her to rest as the healer had recommended but he needed to know of what treatments she'd been taking to help with the aftereffects of the Crucio Curse. He opened her bag and wordlessly summoned her potions. Setting them on the floor beside him, he waved his wand over her. "Enerverate."

Hermione gasped and flailed. Sirius put restraining hands on her shoulders. "It's okay, Hermione. You're safe. I want to help, what are you taking for the seizures?"

She opened her mouth to answer, her wild eyes fixing on him, recognition and relief sinking in. Another seizure took her and Sirius releases his hold so he wouldn't hurt her. Her eyes rolled back and her teeth snapped together as the muscles in her jaw locked.

They both waited anxiously with bated breath for it to pass. Sirius picked up the now cool wash cloth and handed it to Éowyn. She put carefully wiped Hermiones brow with it, brushing back matted curls from her eyes.

Sirius looked at the re-enlarged case of bottles on the floor. There was a Calming Draught and a muscle relaxer that he could clearly identify, he could start with those.

"Haven't-had one-in-a-year," she stuttered, her jaw chattering. The tremors were getting worse. "Exhuast-ion and ssstress-"

"Make you more susceptible, I know." Sirius clenched a fist, this was as he feared. Hit with a small bout of Crucio was bad. It was unforgivable for a reason, it's effects devastating on the body and mind but usually a person could fully recover with no lasting damage with rest and proper treatment. What he was seeing in Hermione was a result of repeated and prolonged exposure to the curse. He suspected but he asked anyway, "Who, Hermione?"

He helped her sit and as she covered his hand that brought the small blue bottle to her lips, she met his eyes. "Bbb-ella-trix."

With Éowyn supporting her shoulders and Sirius closing Hermione's hand firmly around the bottle helping her to take the contents, they managed to get the muscle relaxant down before the next seizure took her. Sirius cursed his cousin a hundred ways, earning a sympathetic look from Éowyn.

"What can we do for her?"

Sirius released the tension that had strung his body tight for from the moment he'd laid eyes on Hermione's seizing body. He'd had a taste of Crucio at his cousin's hand once himself. It chilled him to the bone that Hermione had felt possibly ten times that torment. "We have to wait it out. The best treatment is prevention. Keep her strong, healthy and not let her become too fatigued or magically drained. I think the fact that she's a powerful witch is what has helped her survive this. Many don't. They get lost in the pain of the curse and never come out. I'd like to get her energy up. Warm broth a little at a time, she could tolerate that."

"I will have some made at once. I will make sure no one disturbs you," Éowyn said rising from her kneeling position on the opposite side of the bed.

"Thank you for your kindness and your understanding, Éowyn. Faramir is truly blessed to have you in his life."

Éowyn smiled and touched his forearm where it lay by Hermiones on the bed. "And I him, dear Hunter." She left them then, and Sirius went to lock the door behind her.

Sirius dozed and only woke briefly when Éowyn returned with the broth. Hermione hadn't suffered anymore seizures for the past few minutes and she had fallen asleep. He thanked Merlin for small mercies. He put a tiny amount of broth on the spoon and trickled it past her lips. She swallowed reflexively and he continued that way until the broth was half finished.

Cleaning her face once more with the washcloth, he finished what remained in the bowl himself and set it on the table. Standing, he felt his joints creak from being in the same position for so long. He stretched out his muscles and glanced once at the divider before shifting to his animagus form again and settling down by the open fireplace.

::: ::: :::

Gimli rose with the dawn, the morning light warming his chilled skin that had been awash with sweat from fever only a few hours before. He felt sluggish and weak but he was clear-minded and strangely better rested than he had been in the weeks since leaving the safety of Osgiliath.

"It is good to see you well, Gimli."

"Lady Éowyn," he spoke in surprise. "I fell ill on our journey through Mirkwood, how is it I am here? We were days from any party of Rangers. How did the elf manage it?"

"Not Legolas." Éowyn bowed her head. She drew back the divider to reveal Hermione.

"No," Gimli emitted a soft cry. He tumbled from his bed and Éowyn could only lend him an arm in support, the dwarf determined to get to the woman's bedside. "Where is Legolas, what happened?"

Éowyn put a comforting hand on Gimli's arm. "Do you know that she is Maia, Gimli? She brought you here in the blink of an eye. However the act took much of her strength. She is weak and resting. I'm told old wounds are delaying her recovery but we are doing what we can to keep her comfortable."

Gimli notice the black dog hovering by Hermione's bedside. The way the hound eyed him made Gimli feel uneasy. "What is Faramir's beast doing in this chamber of healing?"

Éowyn let out a tinkling laugh. "He is her protector and I would caution against calling him a beast. When she arrived with you many were afraid. The last powerful wizard tried to rule these lands and end the world of men."

Gimli realized she spoke of Sauron. "Then they are fools. I have seen her heart, she would sooner forfeit her life than do harm to an innocent. She is not a Maia, my lady. She is not of our world."

"Are the Maiar not elemental and charged by the Valar themselves. Some say they were fashioned by Eru himself to shape these lands, and guide those that dwell here. Would you say that is not of this world, but for the world?" Éowyn nodded and waved to Sirius. "Hunter?"

Sirius transformed and watched in satisfaction as Gimli's jaw dropped. "I know your face. You are the one she lost to The Veil."

"I was cast here from my world, yes. What do you know of The Veil, what has she told you? What about Harry and the war?" he asked desperately.

Gimli gave him a pitying look. "I know that it pained her to be separated from him. Her friend, Harry was there when she fell. Death Eaters they were called..."

"Then the war is still being fought? Voldemort is still alive," he said stricken.

Gimli shook his head. "The dark wizard is dead. Many of the traitors imprisoned. However many still roam free. They search for them. Hermione was attacked while some made a desperate attempt to change the tide of the war through time." He paused to search the other man's face. "Is there no way back to your world?

Sirius lips set in a grim line. "Not that I have discovered. I have searched around the forest where I first appeared. I looked for any reference in the libraries of Osgiliath and Edoras, and found no answers."

Gimli scoffed, "Sniffing would not have aided you in that quest. Wondering in shadows, skulking beast. Lady Hermione will find answers."  
Sirius bristled. "How is it that you think you can make such claims?

"She allowed me to see into her mind with that," he said nodding to the wand that Éowyn had placed on the table near Hermione's bed.

"She let you ... " Sirius was dumbfounded. Hermione was a very private person, for her to have allowed the dwarf to see her memories, well she must trust him a great deal and hold him in high esteem.

"Come, Gimli," Éowyn encouraged. "You clothing is drying. I will find you a robe. I will bring you and Hermione a meal soon, Hunter."

"Thank you, my lady," Sirius said humbly, shooting a dark look at the dwarf when her back was turned. The stout upstart wasn't going to get away with his superior attitude. No, he'd take him down a peg or two even if he had to risk Hermione's ire to do it. He was an old hat at being sneaky anyway.

::: ::: :::

Three days passed and Gimli grew concerned that Hermione's energy levels and pallor only seemed marginally improved. She tired easily, and walked no further than the edge of Meduseld each day. At least the sunlight seemed to bring a little colour to her cheeks. She spoke only in passing, keeping to herself. Even the dog/wizard, who constantly shadowed her, didn't manage to coax much out of her aside from the stray affectionate pat.

"How are you this day, my lady?" Gimli asked, sitting down beside her on the stone ledge. He could see that her eyes were fixed upon the open plains of Rohan. Her eyes swept the land, her brow furrowed in concern.

"He said it would be three days ride. He hasn't shown yet."

Gimli smiled, she was concerned for the elf. "He will be here, my lady. That elf is unstoppable. Speak of the devil." He nodded to a small duo in the distance, riding with great speed.

Hermione stood and wrapped the cloak that Éowyn had loaned her tighter around her body. Even spelled for extra warmth, it did little to fight the cold ache gnawing at her nerves. She couldn't keep the smile from her face at seeing his familiar shape, his poised elegance and his capable stance while he rode Arod. It wasn't till he grew closer that her expression changed. His hair was covered in ash, and his pale skin marred with black smudges. Arod didn't fare much better, it registered then that they were alone. Gimli's little pony was not with them.

Legolas rode to the stables left Arod with the stablehand, before bounding up the many stairs to the Great Hall. The doors were thrown open.

"You are late."

Legolas' smile was blinding, he lifted Gimli off his feet and embraced him gruffly. "You are well. It is good to see you."

"Thick smoke rises in the north east, you met enemies of Rohan?" Éomer asked, he's face gravely concerned.

"I set the outer edges of the forest to flame, herding Shelob's offspring to the Misty Mountains. The Urk-hai would have driven them to the plains and your villages would have been defenseless against them. As I made haste to stop our enemies, I was forced to send Fyre on alone. If he has not returned, I fear for his fate."

Éomer bowed his head. "Do not lose heart. Fyre knows these lands, he will find safe harbour. Your plan took great courage, my friend. My people and I thank you for your tireless efforts on our behalf. "

"You have more than repaid that kindness." He gestured toward Gimli.

"It would not have been so fortunate without his timely arrival. She wore elvish dress, although she is not an elf. Do you speak for her? She is a stranger in these lands."

Legolas looked at Gimli in question but found his friend was conveniently occupied speaking to Éowyn, he noticed Hermione standing alone near the entrance and he met her gaze briefly before answering Éomer. "Forgive me, I had thought that Gumli would have told you how we came upon her in the Forest of Mirkwood. She is of the Istari of another world. We have promised her protection as she searches for a way home."

Éomer hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder if she will return. It seems the Master Dwarf and my sister have adopted her. And I wish luck on the man who can have the hound removed from her side. He's appointed himself her guardian." He chuckled and clapped a large hand on Legolas shoulder. "Come eat and drink, you must be weary from the long ride."

Hermione watched quietly as Legolas followed Éomer inside.

"You fancy him."

Hermione jumped and then scowled as she felt Sirius behind her. She noticed he was wearing one of the shirts she'd sent him. "Glad to see you like my taste in clothes."

"Beggars can't be choosers," he said with a shrug. "Now don't change the subject. When did it happen? Is it his dreamy baby blues or the white golden hair? A little too pretty and Malfoyish for my taste but to each his own. You did have that rivalry going with the boy in school, what was his name, Draco," he announced triumphantly.

Two guards exited a side door and Hermione dragged Sirius further into the shadows behind one of the many large arches around. "You natter and gossip worse than Lavender Brown. Stop being so juvenile."

"Oh so it is serious," he said with a knowing smirk. She glared and he took her shoulders, sobering somewhat. "He is immortal, you do realize that, yes?"

"What does it matter anyway? As if he'd ever notice me."

Sirius tutted her, "My little 'Mione, of course he does. He might be an elf but he is male. I just don't want to see you get hurt. He's been around a long time and word is, he's a heartbreaker."

"Takes one to know one, Snuffles. Leave me be, there nothing to worry about I promise you." She brushed past him and walked briskly to her room, blinking back tears as she went.

Hermione stayed in her room for supper but went to the Great Hall for the morning meal. She wasn't keen on facing Legolas, she was at a total loss of what to say to him. She need not have worried, Éomer's queen, Lothiriel, asked her many questions about her adventure in the forest and also discreetly questioned her about her world. Apparently Éowyn had let slip about her undergarments. Lothiriel was extremely interested in that. Hermione promised to make her a brassiere. She would transfigure it away from prying eyes from one of the many girdles Éowyn had left for her. Queen Lothiriel's appetite for learning was as insatiable as her own and they traded ideas and knowledge without noticing time slipping by.

::: ::: :::

"You're avoiding me."

Hermione felt the tips of her ears redden. "What on earth makes you say that?"

Legolas stopped brushing Arod's coat and fixed her with an incredulous look. "You were walking across the city this morning for the apothecary and did a complete turn in the other direction when you saw that I stood outside with Éowyn."

Hermione felt her cheeks flame, she'd been caught. Sirius' teasing since Legolas had first returned had only gotten worse. He pointedly looked between them at every meal, he whined pathetically whenever Legolas entered a room and what made it infuriating was that no one else knew that she was being harassed because the majority believed he was only a dog.

"I see your friend has found us," Legolas said nodding behind her.

Hermione stomped her foot. "Go catch a rabbit, Snuffles."

"I thought his name was Hunter," Legolas said with a frown.

Hermione met Sirius' mischief filled eyes and glared. He nudged the back of her knees sharply and she fell forward, catching herself on Legolas before she could fall into Arod's flank. "Sirius!" she screeched, whirling on him, but the dog had already scampered off.

Legolas gave her a look of concern. "Gimli told me you have been unwell. Perhaps you should see the healer. You called the hound Snuffles but then you also called him, Sirius. I am sure that Faramir named him, Hunter."

Hermione silently seethed and clenched her fists. Taking a calming breath, she met his aquamarine, almost iridescent-like eyes. For a moment when their eyes met she was struck speechless by the intensity of his gaze. "I... I'm almost 100% now. I'm fine. His name... well he's all of those. He is the one that I showed Gimli. He was the one who I lost to The Veil years ago. He is an animagi, which means he can transform into an animal. He is a wizard, like me. His birth name is Sirius Black. I really shouldn't have slipped." She chewed down on her lip and quickly filled the uneasy silence before her nerves could run away with her. "He prefers his animagus form here. No one bothers him. He finds it peaceful. His friends used to tease him about staying in dog form back home, since he was so much more agreeable as a dog, but he couldn't stand the fleas. They are a small parasite that live in the fur of animals. He doesn't seem to have that problem here," she explained.

Legolas put the brush down on the nearby shelf, and clasped his hands loosely at his sides. He faced her again, and looked at her earnestly. "I never thanked you. For saving Gimli."

"And I never apologized for what I said to you. About you being careless. It wasn't fair for me to say that." Hermione blushed and shifted nervously, and glanced at him briefly before she looked away. "As for Gimli, it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do."

"You do not owe me any apology, you spoke the truth. No one has ever called me to account. I was reckless with his life." Legolas reached for one of her hands and took it in his. "Without you, he would have been lost. Éomer told me what you suffered for your mercy. You were ill for days. You should not have taken such a risk."

Hermione worried at her lip at his words, anxious at how deeply they tugged at her heart. "I overestimated how tired I was. I won't take foolish risks again. Although, I can't really make that promise since I will always do everything in my power to help my friends."

Legolas cracked a smile, his eyes crinkling adorably at the edges. "You are special. Erulissë of Arda." He bowed his head and then released her hand.

Hermione tucked it inside her coat to hide the trembling. His hands were warm and had sent a delightful tingle through her, right down to her toes. With each second that had passed with his hand around clasped around hers, her heart danced a staccato beat in her chest, and a rabble of butterflies took flight in her stomach. With her untouched hand, she tucked the curl that had blown loose from her braid and was tickling her nose. It was a brief and welcome distraction, since she didn't want to be caught staring, which she couldn't help doing whenever he was around. Sirius was right, she was hopeless. She was crushing on an immortal. What a headcase.

"Éowyn wishes to return to Ithilien," Legolas said, oblivious to her inner turmoil. "She was to await for Faramir's party to return, but since we are traveling there, she will accompany us."

"Is that safe?" Hermione asked worriedly. Éowyn was a princess and sister of the King of Rohan, surely she needed more protection than a mismatched party of four. Sirius would go wherever she went, and before that, wherever Éowyn went. Their initial party of three had grown.

"There are Gondorian guards here for her protection. They will journey with us. Only King Éomer knows of our plans. We will keep to the well worn paths and reach Osgiliath by the week's end."

"I will be ready." Hermione pulled her coat tighter around her. She missed her elvish tunic and leggings, they were much warmer than the wool dress Éowyn had spared her. Much less breezy too. It would be too conspicuous for her to donne the outfit again after Éowyn so kindly gave her several dresses. But perhaps she could argue that it was far more practical for riding when it came time to leave. That thought firmly fixed in her mind, she happily left the stable.

"Lady Hermione?"

Hermione stopped and smiled, she didn't turn but waited for him to catch up to her. It was the first time he had said her name since the forest.

"Take this." Legolas removed his cloak from around his neck and held it out to her. He had noticed her clutching at her wrap and the paleness of her skin. Winter was coming and it would grow colder yet. "It was made by the Lady Galadriel herself and will hide the wearer from unfriendly eyes. It will also shield you against elements."

Hermione looked up at him wide-eyed. When Gimli spoke of the Lady Galadriel it was with awe and wistfulness. "I can't take this. It was a gift to you, a precious handmade gift."

"I do not feel the cold, you have need of it more than I. It is mine to give to whom I wish," he said firmly.

Hermione took the cloak, her fingertips brushing his as he placed it around her shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered, meeting his eyes.

Legolas simply nodded and returned to the stables. Hermione stood rooted to the spot for a long while after, wondering just what he'd been thinking to part with such a priceless thing.


	5. Destiny

::: ::: :::

Hermione mourned for her car. For the Tube. Even for her push-bike for Merlin's sake. She was sorely tempted to make a break for it with blind apparition. Anything to save her behind, which was now numb after four days of riding. Snowfola was beautiful, with a grey-dusted white coat, inquisitive nature. She and Hermione seemed to have made an instant connection, despite her being quite young for a horse. Éowyn said that Snowfola was still a filly, being only three-and-a-half- years-old, born to Windfola, Éowyn's stallion and a Gondorian mare during the war. The filly had followed her father back to Edoras for the wedding celebrations of Éomer and Lothiriel. Like all the horses of the Rohirrim, she craved the open fields and couldn't go a day without a good long gallop. Snowfola bore a saddle without fuss but would not tolerate a bridle. Only having Éowyn close by for encouragement and instruction did Hermione feel confident enough to ride the filly. Unfortunately Rohan had no horses to spare and she knew if rode with Legolas it would only be a matter of time before embarrassing feelings made themselves known. Fyre had turned up about a day after Legolas, dirty and in need of a good feed but otherwise no worse for wear being sent off alone.

Hermione's legs were in a constant state of pins and needles as a result of hours on end in the saddle. Her fingers ached from where she clutched Snowfola's mane and she longed to just lie down and go to sleep, like she would when she was a child traveling on long trips with her parents.

For all her aches, she wouldn't make a murmur of complaint. Not on her life. She wasn't going to give Sirius the satisfaction of saying, "Poor princess poppet" or even giving her those eyes - teasing, unmerciful, ever twinkling eyes. She would never have believed it possible but he put Dumbledore to shame with his scheming.

Sirius had warned her to guard her heart, he had expressed concern about not wanting to see her hurt, however, he certainly seemed to spare no effort in literally shoving her in Legolas' direction. It irritated her to no end, and she was beginning to suspect that Legolas had caught on. She caught him sending frosty looks in Sirius' direction on more than one occasion.

Sirius, in animagus form, followed the traveling party at his own pace. Catching up to them in a sprint from where he'd been sniffing out wild hares in the shrubs, he bounded up along side Éowyn and barked. Éowyn looked to him, he tossed his nose in the direction of Hermione. Éowyn nodded at her faithful hound and tugged lightly on her reins, slowing Windfola.

"We will draw near to the river across the plain, we should make camp for the night there."

The Gondorian knights shared a look. "It is very open, my lady," one of the men stated, trying to be respectful while expressing his concern.

Éowyn knew this but it was also more than another half day's ride to the nearest village and would put them off course. Hermione needed rest now. Their last stop had been two days ago with an encampment of Dunedain Rangers. Even with regular watering and short rests for feeding and rub downs, the horses could do with the break too. Everyone could do with a full night's sleep.

"We will ride better at first light with proper rest. We make camp. The river will be good for the horses."

Éowyn veered off and made swiftly for the sound of rushing water. Hermione had peaked at the talk of stopping and felt renewed energy take her as she urged Snowfola to follow. Patting her filly's neck, Hermione watched as she went to straight to the waters edge and delightedly pranced through the shallows.

Taking a seat on a large boulder, Hermione gingerly pulled off her boots and wriggled her toes before tentatively stepping into the water. The cold was bliss against her swollen feet. She closed her eyes and soaked up the afternoon rays on her face.

"I am sorry I did not realize you were tiring, my lady," he said softly.

Hermione startled before she opened her eyes and gave him a smile. "I didn't want everyone to stop on my account. But honestly, I think I could sleep for a week. I don't know how everyone survives it, going horseback everywhere for days on end. If I couldn't apparate, I think I'd happily stay put in one town."

Legolas smiled. "We elves rarely travel such distances with great frequency. In which most choose to journey on foot. I am an oddity."

Hermione smirked inwardly. The only odd thing about him was how impossibly perfect he was. Underneath that hard unapproachable exterior, was a noble and kind heart. The more time she spent with him, the harder she fell. She knew so very little about him, yet she could help the pull she felt whenever he was near. They stood side by side, listening to the sounds of the swollen river and enjoying the moment at rest. There was no where she needed to be right now, no where else she wanted to be.

While she'd recovered from the sudden and shocking drain on her physical and magical energy, Hermione had had a lot of time to think. She was still a rational person, not matter how many years she'd spent in the company of Magizoologist and fellow Unspeakable, Luna Lovegood. Her beliefs, things she stood and fought for her were always based on fact. There was so little she knew about this world, and Sirius had refused to be an active participant by hiding away as a dog, and couldn't teach her much beyond a brief who's who.

Aside from Éowyn, Gimli and Lotherial, most people seemed perturbed by her, as though they couldn't quite figure out why they were wary but knew they should be. She learned from Sirius later that he'd obliviated them. It certainly explained things, their instinctual wide berth. Hermione remembered their reactions to her apparition, she really hadn't thought they'd be so shocked by magic. They were allies with dwarves and elves for Merlin's sake. Being a stranger here, with no idea of where to turn for help, or even how to understand how to relate to people and survive, she felt constantly nervous, and for all their kindness, Hermione hadn't felt so alone since her first year at Hogwarts. Even never completely fitting in while living as a muggle, she'd always had her family, her supportive attentive parents.

The nights in Edoras had been eerily quiet, after a day bustling with activity. Everyone had tasks that they were appointed and those tasks took up the bulk of their daylight hours. After dusk, the fires and torches burned bright, and the barrels of ale flowed, the tables laden heavily with meats and hearty stews that made her home-sick for Hogwarts, but slowly the talk, music and clatter of bowls and picked clean bones being tossed died down as people drifted off to their beds, and things turned deadly quiet. Occasionally she heard a cricket chirp but mostly there was only the sound of the wind whistling through tiny spaces through the old stone walls.

It was yet one more thing to feel homesick for. The air outside reminded her of the great hills and green plains of Scotland. The great hall of Meduseld itself reminding her of being within Hogwarts again, with the damp air, many tapestries and the cold stone. There was also no electricity or indoor plumbing, which was easily solved for a wizard with a quick Lumos or Nox, cleaning and banishing spells for taking care of business. Just a few of many conveniences she missed.

Hermione thought about her predicament and how once, not that long ago she'd tried desperately to prove herself worthy of a rightful place in the wizarding world. On the train to Hogwarts she'd told anyone who'd listen how much she knew about the school and all the spells she'd learned over the summer. It hadn't made much difference. Those that hadn't been intimidated by her pushy attitude, just plain disliked her for being a swot. If she hadn't befriended Harry and Ron after the troll incident... she shook her head in memory. It had been a near thing, that letter that had been tucked inside her pillow case for a week and almost been mailed home. Being muggleborn and generally disliked on top of that, even for a eleven-year-old enchanted by the magic in all forms and hungry to learn, it had been too painful and lonely to continue on at Hogwarts, and she would have gone home, and things gone differently. However, being realistic, if Harry and Ron hadn't been looking for her, she probably would have ended up a troll's breakfast, never getting the chance to mail that letter home anyway.

Ironically, she wondered if latching onto rescuers was her modi operandi. She smirked at the thought. If Gimli was her Harry, then Legolas was her... she snorted at the thought with a smirk. Legolas and Ron could not be more world's apart, and she didn't mean it in the literal sense. While Legolas might come off as a bit abrasive, inadvertently rubbing people up the way with his standoffish regal air, he didn't suffer from an inferiority complex, nor did he secretly desire to be the center of attention. If anything, Hermione guessed he did his best to avoid it. He fascinated her, and frustrated her in equal measure. She didn't like exploring her feelings on subjects, she prefered to read facts, study history and learn by what she could see, hear and touch. Her instincts weren't always the best, Harry was a better judge of character than she was, most of the time. They were typically Gryffindor in the tendency to leap to the wrong conclusions and get themselves in trouble. At least Hermione usually thought far enough ahead to be able to get them out of it again.

In Edoras, willing her strength to return, which stubbornly refused to cooperate, she searched for tasks to occupy her mind. Only a handful of her potions had survived untouched by The Veil. The rest of them were little more effective than foul tasting, pond sludge, in a variety of colours with varying consistency of dubious lumps.

Éowyn did her best to help her procure some of the herbs and items Hermione needed for healing potions, but all she'd managed to brew in three days was a mild Invigoration Draught, a Pepper-Up and an modified Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. She wasn't going anywhere in this world without the latter, even if she had used all of remaining ground Graphorn Horn to make it.

Sweating over her cauldron while Sirius looked on with a grimace, Hermione chuckling mentally at the image of Professor Snape laughing at her attempts and turning up his nose at her poor offering as a result, had been a good way to pass the time. Professor Snape, she mused, would have made do with what was on offer, and made it into something fantastic. Probably would have invented new potions, even with completely foreign material. Hermione was proficient at producing potions, but she wasn't a potioneer. She lacked the natural instinct to invent with trial and error. The risk of going off book just seemed far too lethal in her opinion, and with the centuries of experience laid out before her, she debated that it was a waste of her time and energy to attempt something which wasn't playing her strengths. Sirius admitted he was rubbish at potions and while he'd been against her brewing, arguing that she didn't need the physical exhaustion, he also couldn't dispute that her logic in their necessity being sound.

As the days had passed, Legolas had remained a constant in the back of her mind. There had been an army of magical creatures after them. They'd left him alone. More than once she'd been taken with urge to find him. Her rational brain always warned her off. He would have moved on from his last position and he'd promised to ride for Edoras after them. On the move, he'd be a harder target and she hoped he was safe.

When the two days passed and there was no sign of him she'd begun to feel guilty. Not for leaving, but for the things she'd said. She didn't know him, she didn't know their world, she had no right to judge him. Gimli seemed no worse for wear and he certainly hadn't passed any judgements. If anyone was at fault for anything, it was her, for disrupting the natural flow of their world. If she ever saw him again, she wasn't going to jump to any conclusions, and if she could find her Gryffindor courage, she would apologize too.

He had approached her and it had been so easy to say the words, she'd needed to say. And with a simple touch, her resolve to only respect him and not judge him had turned into something else. Although Sirius would argue that he'd seen the signs before that.

Her rational brain supplied that she was attracted to his strength of character, his beauty and his mythical nature. He was an enigma that she very much wanted to solve. Her romantic and fanciful side, which she firmly tried to squash at every turn, said the sound of his voice made her nerves sing and soothed a part of her soul that she'd feared she'd damaged permanently from pining after one man most of her adult life. From her very first year she'd been taken by Ron's flaming red hair and his easy going attitude. When he'd stood up for her against Draco, those tiny stirrings of a crush had become a flame, one that would burn longer and brighter with each passing year, in which he'd turn his nose up at her, ignore her, snog Lavender Brown as though she was tastier than a wagon of cauldron cakes and finally after years of one and off again affection, he would choose she wasn't worth the wait after all.

Hermione sighed the past was stacked against her. Telling her to forget this fixation she was developing for the elf. Nothing good had ever amounted from a crush of hers. Gilderoy Lockhart and Ron were prime examples. And she was not going to revisit the memory of her middle school crush for all the Felix Felicis her body could tolerate. That had been a spectacular embarrassment from beginning to end. Her mother had tried consoling a 10-year-old Hermione when the boy she'd admired from her class for almost a year, refused to accompany her to see a picture. He'd told her verbatim that she was a butterface swot and he'd rather stay home and watch the telly. Never lacking in confidence before, Hermione had been shattered and firmly set her mind, never to make the first move again. Thinking back, she realized he was nothing to boast about in the looks department himself, it must have been his academic skills that had captured her interest. He had excelled in almost every subject he took, he was rubbish at Music however, and from memory, he was terrible at Gym and Track too. Commiserations aside, she had a small concession to make, her admiration of Victor Krum had lead to a brief romance and a lasting long-distance friendship. He was not at all what he first appeared to be. It was nice to be pleasantly surprised on occasion. Perhaps, she could tell her rational brain to sod off for a change stop trying to micromanage and analyse every detail of her life.

Lost in her thoughts, she absently fingered the leaf brooch pinned to the neck of her cloak. Her finger caught on the pin point and she was snapped back to the present at the sharp sting. With a quick spell the wound disappeared and she touched the leaf again, admiring the gem-like surface and the webbing of fine silver threads representing the veins of the leaf. The cloak was one of those pleasant surprises she was teaching herself to accept without over-thinking. Wearing it, she never felt the cold against her back and with the hood raised it was like being wrapped in a thermal blanket that never let you overheat. It was the perfect balance of warmth and comfort. And it smelled of him. She smiled secretly, inclining her face away so that he wouldn't question her mirth. He smelled of the forest, fresh, woodsy with the barest hint of . It was inviting and invigorating and she hoped that it would never fade from the garment.

Éowyn approached her and held out her hand. Hermione took it and Éowyn pulled her close, linking their arms. "You're fortunate that you have such a watchful guardian. You can not allow yourself to grow weak. If you were to lapse in these conditions, it would be a treacherous thing."

"What concerns do you have, Lady Éowyn? Of what do you speak?"

Hermione shook her head slightly indicating that she didn't what Legolas to know about the seizures. She knew he felt enough guilt over her illness in Edoras, with Eomer informing him. But at least the King hadn't known anything about her condition.

Éowyn sighed softly, but nodded her assent. "Lady Hermione is not used to riding and Snowfola is not yet full grown. I am a lady of Rohan, without regard for my allegiances to my husband, I am a horsewoman first. It is easy to forget the needs of others. I merely wish Lady Hermione to remind me of that."

Legolas looked skeptical but nodded once. He filled his skin with water, and headed back to where the men pitched the tents.

"Why would you wish to keep this from him?"

Hermione withdrew her arm. "He doesn't need to know." Without another word, she collected her boots and she stalked downstream, away from the camp and away from Legolas.

Éowyn shook her head at the stubborn woman but let her go.

::: ::: :::

Sirius found her later as the sun was dipping low on the horizon. The sky streaked with hues of pink, orange and purple, the fading light making the white birch trees around them seem golden. The leaves had already turned, the earth under her feet dotted with brown and yellow autumn leaves, most of tree branches were already bare. Winter would soon descend.

"You should come back, they will start looking for you soon. He looks worried."

Hermione snorted. "How can you tell?"

"You forget that I'm a dog right? My nose isn't as good as Remus' but I can still smell pheromones, sense changes in body temp, sweat, heartbeats and such."

Hermione felt her heart clench. _Remus. _He didn't know.

"What? What's the matter." Sirius had watched her face fall, and her eyes pinch in pain. His gut told him that he wasn't going to like hearing what she knew, but he had to know anyway.

"Sirius, I... I don't know how to tell you... we all suffered in the war but..."

"He's gone?" He saw her nod but his heart knew it even as he said the words.

Hermione nodded and watched, her heart going out to him as he dropped like a stone. He sank to his knees, his face paling.

"How?"

"Voldemort brought the battle to Hogwarts. Remus and Tonks were determined to help us, despite having Teddy at home. It think even more so, because of him. They wanted him to be able to grow up safe in a world without hate and prejudice. They both died in the battle."

"Moony and my little cousin?" he asked in an awed voice, his face scrunched in bewilderment.

"You remember when her Patronus changed don't you? She was in love with him. Took a long time for her to convince him that she was serious. He didn't want her tainted with the stigma of being with a werewolf, and there was the age argument. Which really doesn't matter if you think about how long wizards can live." Or not, she amended silently. At least they'd had those short years together. And they had had Teddy, such a sweet, adorable, talented child. They would be so proud of him."

"I would have loved to see them together. Would've been a picture, bubble gum pink hair and next with Mooney's pale mug."

Hermione smiled. "Teddy's a Metamorphmagus."

Sirius grinned and this face dropped and he arched an eyebrow. "He didn't have Remus'..."

"No, Merlin they were so worried but Tonk's genes trumped everything. He's absolutely fine." Hermione pushed curls out of her face and drew up her knees. "Are you hungry? I honestly don't feel like deer, for another meal. No matter how much they season it, it's still deer. And honestly deer for a week is more than I can stomach."

Sirius chuckled. "Try living in raw rabbit for awhile. You'll welcome deer."

Hermione pulled a face and pretended to gag. She opened her satchel and summoned two meal rations. "I got the chili, you can have the..."

A piercing screech sounded from above, and Sirius transformed in a heartbeat, while Hermione flattened herself behind a rock and looked up. The creature that swooped from above, froze her in fear before she shook herself into action. The black winged creature, circled screeching as though calling to others. Hermione shot a Silencio at its head so she could hear herself think and stop her eardrums from throbbing painfully.

The creature's ugly serpent-like head whipped in her direction and her eyes widened. How did it even know it was her spell that had taken its scream? _It's a mythical magical creature, Hermione,_ she inwardly chided herself. _How else? _It was making a dive for her. She quickly ran through her options, ruling out the useless or unpredictable options - stun, bind or Confundus. She cast a blinding curse and flattened herself against a large fallen tree for cover.

Arrows sailed overhead from somewhere behind her but they seemed to bounce off the creature. The tall, goblin-like male riding the winged creature was fixing his gaze beyond her, and he was trying to get the flying beast to follow his command. He seemed to be having trouble with that.

Another screech fouled the quiet and Hermione didn't dare turn from the distressed, blinded beast currently bearing down on her, not matter how much her instinct said to cover her back. She had to trust that Sirius was out there doing something useful.

There was another scream, and Hermione ducked as the beast she'd cursed swooped again, dragging through the river before pulling up sharply. It was then that Hermione registered that the scream had not come from a creature, but a woman. She looked on in horror as the other beast flew away, growing smaller. The figure of Éowyn clutched in its grasp.

::: ::: :::

**TA 3003 (Earth Year 1980)**

"You damn me! Why save me? Cunnin' snake, a'll curse you!"

Dumbledore checked that the wards he'd placed on the door were still active. "Tom would have had you die in Azkaban, Morfin. There are many paid hands whom do his bidding. I could not in good conscience allow you to die for crimes, killings, you never committed. This is the only way."

The man glared suspiciously at the aged yet powerful wizard behind him. "Why help me? I'm nothin' any longer. My father dead, my sister... he killed 'em all. Dere's judgement and death, 'at's all 'at's waitin' for me."

"There is hope," Dumbledore said tiredly. "A chance, Morfin, if you wish it. For a new life."

Morfin looked doubtful, and crossed his arms. "Not 'ven you can, obliviate ever'one."

"Through there, I won't have to. Obliviate." Morfin looked at him blankly for a moment, and Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder. Fawkes watched the exchange from his perch on one of the upper levels. He had teleported them in and he would patiently wait for his old friend to nod, to teleport them back home. With a gesture at the shimmering surface, he urged Morfin to step in. "I wish you well, Gríma Wormtongue."

So Morfin Gaunt- uncle to the self proclaimed Dark Lord, who according to record, died while awaiting exoneration for the murder of rest of the Gaunt family- was sent through The Veil. Where he was received by an old explorer and wizard friend of Dumbledore's, Gálmód.

The two old friends communicated via Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix. They found that the mysterious magic of the bird allowed it to travel both sides of The Veil due to it's innate teleporting ability. Like a wizard's magic wasn't stripped while passing through The Veil, neither was the Phoenix's natural abilities. Phoenixes weren't limited by wards or enchantments, they could go and access any place they wished. They were extremely rare, highly intelligent and lived in the wild, keeping to themselves. Which meant that little was recorded about their abilities or even how many actually existed.

What Dumbledore didn't know, what he couldn't have anticipated was that some acts of compassion had too steep a price. And some men, were beyond hope and redemption, bred and conditioned to desire to do evil. They lusted after power and coveted beauty, as others would merely desire peace and love.

For many years, Gálmód mentored Morfin (now Gríma as a result of Dumbledore's Memory Charm), as a wizard of Middle Earth had once shown him in kindness and taught him. Gálmód adopted him in name but treated him more as a student or apprentice than one would a son. As a result, Gríma was often left feeling unloved, frustrated and starved for familial pride.

Gríma worked tirelessly alongside his father, who was Gandalf the Grey's friend and associate advisor to the King of Rohan. The King had a council of Elders all representing various tribes of Rohan but only one chief advisor. Gandalf had been advisor for centuries but had many duties that took him great distances. As a result it was fortuitous that he met Gálmód and trained him. As the mantle would fall to Gríma when his adoptive father was killed.

While travelling with the Rohirrim to take census of various tribes and hear the people's requests, a band of Uruk-hai and Wargs set upon the travelling company and killed all but a handful of riders. Gálmód was among those killed in the skirmish. Théoden, at a sudden loss and feeling compassion for Gríma, gave him the position once held by his father as an act of faith but also as a kindness for loyalty shown. Gandalf had been absent from Rohan for many years by then, or would have counselled Théoden against the appointment.

Gríma was not his father. Where Gálmód was trustworthy, wise, hardworking and compassionate, Gríma was self serving, manipulative and prone to violent outbursts. Completely at odds with the studious, levelheaded, and honorable example from his father. One could argue it was nature leaking through the Memory Charm. Generations of selective breeding, the Gaunts being fastidious pure-blooded supremacists, had corrupted their minds. Even with Dumbledore's wand work and Gálmód mentoring, it took a few years for Gríma to be more than a shaggy, pale, more snake-brained-than-man to become a trusted, silver-tongued advisor to one the most noble kings of Middle Earth. It didn't help at that while on his many journeys while being mentored by his father, that Gríma was seduced by promises of glory and a coveted reward if he was to pledge his loyalty to a fellow wizard, instead of to Theoden, King of Rohan. So sealing his downfall.

One might ask why did Dumbledore leave Sirius to his fate. When he knew the truth of The Veil? With Gálmód dead, Fawkes had no one to receive a message and Dumbledore could not tell Harry what had happened to Sirius less the boy do something rash like follow his godfather. Which was what got them into trouble in the first place. With the Wizarding World still at war, and Sirius' still wanted for the murder of the Potters, Dumbledore instead chose to believe that Sirius would survive and thrive as Gálmód had in the world through The Veil.

::: ::: :::

**Present Day (Middle Earth)**

Their objective seemed clear as both riders quickly steered their beasts to retreat, ignoring those still attacking, the arrows bouncing harmlessly off their armor. The pointed weapons also having no effect on the winged creatures' skin.

Hermione ran back to the campsite where she found Sirius snapping and tearing out shrubs. Gimli angrily tossed axes into the river, while Legolas stood bow still in hand, his face an equal mixture of disbelief and anger. "Where will they take her?" she asked Legolas.

"There is only one place where those Fell Beasts roost. The walls of Minas Morgul," he replied, the words spoken as though they left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Why would they linger? The King of Gondor has ordered the placed razzed and purged," Gimli reminded them all.

"King Elessar's men have many tasks to carry out, the preparations for the assault are still being made," one of the Gondorian knights supplied.

"Then we must urge haste, for I will not rest until Lady Eowyn is safely returned to Emyn Arnen," Legolas said firmly, his hand tightening on his bow grip.

Her heart pounding at a galloping rate, Hermione purposefully strode to Snowfola's side. "I'm sorry, girl." With a wave of her wand, she transfigured the horse.

Snowfola neighed and stomped the ground. Gimli let slip a word that sounded like a curse, but not in a language Hermione understood, the soldiers gasped.

"What magic is this?" Legolas uttered, his voice expressing a tinge of fear.

"I need to fly, and the only way I'm going up is on Thestral. Sirius, now might be a good time to give me a hand?"

There was a decidedly disgruntled whine from behind her, and more gasps, when Sirius shifted to human form and touched her shoulder. When she took his hand, he helped get settled on Snowfola, who was now a Thestral. "Are you sure you're ready for this? This world is full of things you've never seen before, you don't even know the landscape."

"I forgot you don't know what I did after the war," she said and spared him a grin. "Worked for the Department of Mysteries. I've seen things a lot of things people don't know exist. Certainly gave me room to stretch my limited imagination and test my skeptical brain. This is not the first time I've had to ride a transfigured horse. I've had to work with a lot less. Took a few pointers from your motorbike for one job," she said with the hint of a smile. Sirius didn't share it.

"Hermione, we don't know who has her. We don't even know for sure that they're headed for Minas Morgul."

Hermione shook her head. "What we do know is if they see a soldier or one of the war heroes, they'll likely use her as a shield or do something equally drastic. I'm going to investigate first, disillusioned of course. If I can get her out without raising alarms, I will. If I need help, I'll contact you through this." She tossed him a Galleon enchanted with a Protean Charm, she'd made after meeting him in Rohan. Her old fake Galleon with a Protean Charm which she kept in her boot had lost its enchantments, and had reverted back into a checker piece when she had passed through The Veil. She made a new set on 'communication pieces' with the few Galleons she had in her satchel. She wouldn't be needing them anytime soon and if she ever did make it back, she could just remove all the enchantments. This time instead of just enchanting the serial numbers to shift their order, she also fixed it so that each number could also represent a letter of the alphabet. After a moment's thought, she reached out to Legolas and offered him a coin.

"Anything I write on my piece will appear on it's twin. Sirius can send a reply, if you want to send any messages in return. I'm Eowyn's best chance. I know enough to slip by unnoticed and I refuse to sit idle when I can do something to help her."

Legolas nodded, before placing a hand on hers. "You ride to great danger, my lady. We know not what evil lies in the mountains but I can feel it's darkness. Stay hidden, it will not help Lady Eowyn, for a Maia's power to fall in the hands of those once loyal to Sauron."

With a nod, she turned her head and pressed her cheek to the side of Snowfola's throat. "Hush, now, hear me, see my thoughts. Don't be afraid," she spoke gently. With a touch little more than the softest ghosting of a feather brushing the skin, she slipped images and feelings into the horse's mind. She shared with her filly, the instincts needed to fly.

Hermione felt the moment that Snowfola caught the instinct to move, to experiment and with a beat of great bat-like wings, leaves and dirt stirred up around them. With an upward surge they took to the sky and she broke the connection when she knew her fear would do nothing to encourage the newly airborne mare to find confidence in her wings. Lying forward between the beating wings, Hermione held onto the cluster of bones at base of Snowfola's neck.

Pointing her wand to her face, Hermione used a charm she'd invented a year ago to help her track suspicious subjects from great distances. "Aquila Visus." Her sight enhanced, she spotted two dark dots traveling the sky to her far left, and urged Snowfola in that direction. They were a good ten minutes ahead of her, but it would do her well to keep the distance between them and as they drew near their destination, she would Disillusion both herself and her ride and find a safe place to land. Then she would find shelter for Snowfola and travel the rest of the way on foot.

::: ::: :::

Sirius looked at his fellow travellers and shrugged with a smile. "Leaves to me to play the messenger, okay then. Be back in a bit." And he was gone with a pop.

"Handy lot to keep around aye? Don't think I will ever get accustomed to that," Gimli said while kicking his boot through the water.

Legolas didn't say anything but a frown darkened his face. He tucked his bow back into it's holder and went to help the Gondorians to pack up the camp. Even though he already knew that Sirius was also a Maia, it still unsettled him to witness the power they displayed. Not since his father was a youngling had there been Maia with such power in Middle Earth. Gandalf had returned from the dead as Gandalf the White, newly appointed head of the Istari and even he was limited in his abilities. Perhaps restricted by the form the Valar chose their representatives to take while guiding the peoples of Middle Earth. There seemed no end to what Hermione and Sirius could do with their magic, only to what extent. Legolas knew she could be weakened, and it concerned him that she would exceed her limits in her attempt to save Eowyn.

He had seen her soul, he could see her aura as plain as the earth stretched out before him. She had a brightness that challenged the light of Earendil's star, and the warmth she radiated matched that of the sun. Her purity and her heart's capacity for compassion and hope against all odds, created a stirring in his chest that was both lancing and desired. He never knew such conflicting emotions before and it caused him to grow morose. He suspected it was becoming obvious too if Gimli's frequent looks of disapproval were any indication.

Legolas strapped a folded tent and supplies to one of the pack horses and sent a silent prayer to Manwë for protection and strength for absent friends. Most especially for the graceful, powerful woman, who had caught his eye, and he dare not utter it yet, but perhaps his heart.


	6. Where Evil Dwells

**Edoras, four days earlier**

Legolas watched with a small smile playing on his lips as Hermione politely declined the assistance offered by one of the men of Gondor. She tied all her bags down herself and mounted with little difficulty, even without the aid of a saddle horn or reins. He was impressed by her determination to not delay their departure even though the healer said she had only just regained her strength.

Éowyn expressed concerned but Hermione was firm in their need to travel, wishing to seek answers from libraries older and more vast than those the Rohirric kept.

While she had not disclosed the extent of her condition or the nature of her illness to anyone aside from Éowyn, it seemed, Legolas was not going to let her stretch her abilities to their limits and induce that kind of fatigue again. He could not trust her to admit her own weakness. She had confessed herself blind to her own needs when her friends had greater need of her. He would guard her from folly, the woman didn't seem to grasp her worth.

Hermione wore his cloak with pride and it struck with an emotion he couldn't discern to see that she had forgone womanly attire to don his like again. He had to concede however, that Gimli was right, she would make a very fetching she-elf. She already stuck the pose well enough, great posture and intelligent eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond her apparent years, all she was missing was tamed locks and pointed ears, although he felt it would be a grave loss indeed if her thick, wild, curly mantle were ever sleek and controlled. As they were they seemed alive and testament to her willful and powerful aura. She was earth and beauty, grace incarnate yet he knew she could be fierce as a sandstorm gale if her convictions were tested. He had known her only moments and she had challenged him to think on the individual rather than judge the creature by the collective.

He still found it humbling and incomprehensible that she had shared her mind with a stranger because she had chosen to trust Gimli, even though all she had to go by was his apparent kindness.

Every day that went by he found his thoughts turning to her with more frequency. He wished to know more of her world, he desired to hear her thoughts, to listen to her voice, to help her find answers if he could, he wanted to know her as few others did. He found himself envying the ease in which his dwarf friend found her company. He wished that she would laugh and smile at him the way she did with Gimli. It was foolish, to feel the way he did, wishing to be in the dwarf's place. Completely foolish. Gimli stood no higher than her elbow and riding alongside Hermione he had to crane his neck to avoid conversing with her knee.

Legolas surprised himself with the uncharacteristic laugh that escaped as a snort. He glanced at his companions quickly, relieved to notice that no one seemed to have heard his mirth. His reputation as the stoic and lonesome warrior elf was safe.

He listened as Gimli regaled Hermione with their misadventures during their time with the Fellowship of the Ring and then with Aragorn as they fought for Rohan, Minas Tirith and finally for the hobbit Frodo at the Black Gates of Mordor.

Occasionally she had looked back over her shoulder at him in slack-jawed disbelief. He merely met her gaze and nodded almost in perceptively to affairs Gimli's account and she fix her eyes ahead again but not before he caught the impressed smile that pulled at her lips.

::: ::: :::

Two days into their journey they stopped in a small village to rest. The horses were taken to the stables for watering, a brush down and fresh grain and the men sought out the local meeting place for beer and company.

Hermione found her feet on jelly-legs as she dismounted. Gimli caught her arm and she had to stifle a laugh as her sudden misstep almost sent them both crashing into the wall. She braced herself on the door post and patted Gimli on the shoulder.

"I think I'll stand a moment. Give my legs a chance to sort themselves out." She grinned brightly at him, eyes sparkling with good humor. Hermione felt eyes on her back and she turned to see Legolas studying them both with a startled look, before he broke away and strode out another exit. Hermione frowned at his abrupt and seemingly distant behaviour but shook it off at the touch of Sirius' fur under her fingertips. Reaching down, she scratched behind his ears, massaging and scratching in equal measure the way she knew he liked, he was happily panting and giving her puppy eyes by the time the feeling of pins and needles faded in her limbs.

"It's still light yet, I feel like a bit of sport. What do you say, lass?"

Hermione smiled. "It depends on what sport you're suggesting. Anything that involves running, well you can count me out. I can barely manage one foot in front of the other as it is."

Gimli chuckled. "We dwarves aren't made for running. Charging over short distances, perhaps, but not jogging for long distances. Mahal forbid, I should ever be challenged with the need for it again."

Hermione nodded solemnly in remembrance of his tale of losing the hobbits briefly during the war, fearing them dead when they finally caught up to those that took them. Gimli had struggled on, running for days, pushing his limits to keep up with those whose stride was twice his own.

"So nothing involving a lot of movement," she suggested hopefully.

"Oh I didn't say that," he said with a wink.

Sport consisted of taking aim at long and short range targets. It wasn't a formal archer's range, more or less a secluded spot where the town kept their drying hay bales.

Gimli took turns hurling various sized and shaped axes at an assortment of targets. Broken pottery, a lone boot, glass bottles, a helmet and rotting produce. Lots and lots of rotten produce. The sparsely patched yellowish grass was covered in smashed pieces of what looked and smelled like apple, pumpkin and tomatoes.

"You missed one," she teased, pointing out a lone bottle in the distance.

Gimli humphed and puffed out his chest before taking aim. He hurled and missed, only barely but didn't dislodge the bottle from it's perch on the hay.

An arrow sailed over at incredible speed, there was a tinkle of breaking glass but she never saw the bottle shatter, it just vanished.

Gimli stomped his foot and threw an ax at the ground. "No one invited you, elf," he grumbled. "No fun with him, he's never missed," he muttered under his breath but not quietly enough.

Hermione had to cover her smile with her hands. Legolas looked very pleased with himself and he arched an eyebrow at Gimli. "Best out of ten?"

"When have I ever won at at that. I say you challenge, Lady Hermione. I wager she's a faster and sharper draw than you."

Hermione's eyes bulged. "I don't... I've never. I don't even know how to hold a bow."

"Your magic, my lady," Gimli clarified.

"Oh, oh right." Hermione wanted to slap herself for her ignorance. She stood and brushed off the straw clinging to her clothing. "I don't know how fair it will be, since my aim doesn't have to be pinpoint accurate to cause your kind of destruction."

"Then what is fair?" Legolas enquired, coming to stand closer to them from where he'd arrived at the edge of the field.

"For every thing you hit, I'll repair it before you hit your next target and the first to beat the other wins?" she suggested.

Legolas frowned, before Gimli clapped rubbed his hands together. "So if there are broken items on the field, I win our challenge, but if there are none, you win?

"Yes, and you only get ten arrows," she added quickly. She didn't want the game to go all night. She felt herself swaying on her feet as it was.

"On the count of three," Gimli interjected.

Hermione whipped out her wand and she noticed Legolas notch an arrow. She trained her eye on the angle of his aim, mirroring his movements.

"One, two... three."

The arrow was loosed and Hermione followed it with a silent Repairo.

It was over in about two minutes, which seemed more like a few heartbeats to Hermione, her heart was racing and her nerves were singing, she'd forgotten what a rush of adrenaline felt like when there was no real danger. She could relish the afterglow, the feeling of magic coursing through her body like a livewire, every nerve ending in her body tingling from her fingertips to her toes. Her hair almost snaking about her shoulders almost as though it held a life of it's own but perhaps she was so warm she didn't notice the breeze. Her face was flushed with a healthy rosy glow and her smile was wide as she met Gimli's astonished gaze.

"How'd I do?"

Legolas still held his bow at his side, the ten arrows nowhere to be seen. "The magic you wield..." he whispered in awe.

Hermione felt her face flame and it had nothing to do with the adrenaline still singing through her blood. That last spell, she'd cheated a little and banished his arrows back to his quiver. But she wouldn't tell him that yet.

"I fear against magic, I fail as badly as Gimli in a drinking contest."

"What was that now?" Gimli protested.

Hermione tucked her wand back in her sleeve. "Without my wand, my magic is far less powerful. It takes a greater amount of concentration to complete the same spells and never to exactly the same result."

"Can you defend yourself without your magic?" Legolas asked quietly.

Hermione blushed. "I know a little self defense. My dad insisted I take classes before they let me go to boarding school."

"What kind of weapons did they train you in?" Legolas asked, intrigued that a father would send his daughter for training, rather than instruct her himself.

"Oh no weapons," Hermione said waving her hands expressively. "Just basic disarming techniques, utilizing pressure points and such," she explained casually.

Legolas nodded, he wouldn't ask her to demonstrate even if it would satisfy his curiosity. He didn't want to cause her embarrassment. "Would you like to learn how to wield a bow?"

Hermione felt her jaw drop open before she caught it and smiled nervously. Could she handle being any closer to him? "if it isn't an incomvirncance to you. Surely you'd rather use the time here to relax, join the other men perhaps?"

Even though she seemed hesitant to approach him he could see he eagerness to learn in her eyes. Her mind was one for learning, he understood that from the way her keen eyes soaked in her surroundings, with a vast amount of time spent with her face hidden by large books and bent over old scrolls while they'd been in Edoras.

Stretching out his arm, he offered her his bow. She took it carefully, handling it with reverence. Gimli had shared with her that part of their tale that included the gifts from Lady Galadriel of Lorien. Like her cloak, it was elf-made, rare, magical and precious.

As she lifted the bow, he stood behind her and curled his fingers around hers holding it gently by the grip. He notched an arrow and showed her how to grasp the nock against the silken string of the bow. Together they took aim at the apple sitting atop the furthest bale of hay.

Hermione's blood pulsed wildly in her veins, she could feel the heat of him at her back, and she felt his scent surround her, as his arms did, encircling her in his warmth and protection. He was tall, lithe and she could feel the firm, quiet strength hidden beneath the armor he wore. His fingers were gentle only just touching her skin, his hands guiding her movements not forcing her grip, just supporting. She was having trouble remembering to breathe, let alone concentrate on what how he was instructing her. She prayed silently that she wouldn't embarrass herself with her inattention, closing her eyes, she told her fingers and stance to relax and remember his pose, even as his hands drifted away and he stepped back.

"Now lose the arrow," he said quietly.

Hermione opened her eyes and released her breath at the same time as she let her fingers slip from the string. There was a sharp twang, and she felt the displacement of air. She watched the arrow, pierced the apple in slow motion before it cut clean through, toppling the broken remains from their perch, the arrow sailing on and disappearing behind the bale.

She turned to him triumphant. He smiled warmly at her. "Impressive for your first attempt. Another?"

Hermione took the offered arrow and notched it as he had shown her. Raising the bow, she pulled back and released. They spent the next hour this way, Legolas instructing, gently correcting her position and her hold, neither noticing when Gimli slipped away. The sun was dipping below the horizon when Hermione finally admitted that her muscles were beginning to ache. Legolas took the bow and went to retrieve the arrows, he frowned when he passed the first hay bale.

Hermione waved her wand and vanished the rotten produce, and summoned all the arrows. She walked over to him and put them in his hands. "I must confess, I cheated a little before. I spelled all your arrows back into your quiver after you released your final one."

Legolas let out a short laugh but continued to smile. "In all my long years, I've never been foolish enough to openly challenge a wizard. I confess that you enchant me to forget myself, my lady."

Hermione blushed and felt a twisting of nerves in her stomach when she remembered Sirius' words regarding Legolas. He was older than she was, possibly decades, if not centuries older. To him, she must seem like a child, still naive to the world and in need of constant protection, guardianship and correction. Her face fell, and her heart clenched painfully in her chest. For all the care and attention he showed her, it probably came from a similar place as Sirius' feelings did. He had indulged her childish curiosity enough for one day, she thought bitterly.

"Thank you for teaching me, Legolas," she said humbly. "I think I'll retire now. It's getting late." Quickly, she left the field and headed for the inn where she knew Éowyn had arranged lodgings for the night. She never looked back, missing the look of confusion and sadness that settled on the elf's face at her abrupt departure.

Safe in her quiet room at the inn, Hermione sagged against the back of the heavy door. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and her eyes felt moist. She chided herself for her hormonal response. He was a lovely mythical being, kind, intelligent, physically attractive but so much older and these feelings she was having, drawing her to him, they were irrational and one-sided. She needed to get them under control. Not only was she a stranger in this foreign world, but she was searching for a way back home. It wouldn't do to form attachments with the people here only to have to leave them behind.

While she didn't promise Harry that she could return, she didn't want to give him false hope, she also knew that she intended to find all she could on The Veil. Hermione was sure that once she reached the land of Gondor, and found their libraries, this yearning she got to be close to Legolas, to know him, would fade into the background. As everything else always did when she started in on her research, or whatever project she had dedicated herself to.

::: ::: :::

**Ered Lithui, Northern Ithilien, present day**

The mountains were grey stone, volcanic rock, all blanketed by sooty ash that seemed to cover everything in the land of Mordor. Faramir and his Company were camped at the foot of the Ash Mountains, with small Bands of men scouting the borders of Ithilien for spies and enemies of the United Kingdoms of Middle Earth.

Sirius snuck quietly between the tents and made for the center of the camp. It was late afternoon, so the camp was still largely emptied, the soldiers all attending to their various duties. Only a few watchmen were posted at the fringes of the camp, and two posted near the commander's table.

Faramir stood hunched over a large map with one of his chieftains and his second-in command, Othwell, who had been appointed to the position of Captain of Osgiliath after the last Captain had died during the war. He noticed the shadow moving and stopped his discussion with Othwell mid-speech.

"Hunter?"

Sirius barked once and quickly headed for Faramir's tent which he recognized from the old stain by the door where Éowyn had accidently knocked over a bloodied wash basin, after Faramir had been wounded in the shoulder after a skirmish with enemies from Rhun.

Faramir entered the tent and found the hound waiting for him on the rug by the sleeping pallet. "Where is Éowyn, is she in need of aid?"

Sirius fixed his yellow-eyes on his friend and transformed. He watched Faramir take a step back in surprise, before his lips twitched in a smile.

"You are a Maia. I told Éowyn this."

Sirius nodded and grinned. "I wish I was revealing myself under better circumstances but our enemies have taken our princess. Lady Éowyn was abducted by Fell Beasts as we travelled The Brown Lands. I am able to travel with a thought and sought you out immediately."

"Can you take me to her?" Faramir asked, his voice betraying his fear for his wife.

Sirius shook his head. "They are probably still mid-flight. Legolas believes they will take her to Minas Mongul."

Faramir's eyes widened and his face drained of color. "The Witch King is dead. All the Nazgul were defeated when Sauron fell, who would take her there?"

"Perhaps those once loyal to The Witch King? All the lands know of the prophecy that Lady Éowyn fulfilled. However it is a bold move indeed to attack the Princess of Emyn Arnen. What could they hope to gain aside from our wrath?"

Faramir ran his hands over his face and fell into the chair by the tent doorway. He thrust his fingers into his hair and pulled at the strands. "She is my life, to lose her..."

"She is not lost!" Sirius snapped loudly. "Don't lose hope. Yes, I am what you call a Maia and I am not alone. My friend, she is powerful and loyal, she follows Lady Éowyn even now. She will send word and we will respond. We will let her know how you wish her to proceed. In the meantime, we should gather men and march on their gates. Demand their surrender and Lady Éowyn's return. Only a fool will deny the will of the free people."

Faramir stood and fixed Sirius with a look of gratitude and humility. "Thank you, my friend. For reminding me of who I need to be."

Sirius shrugged. "Everyone needs a good kick in the pants now and then. With you it was a bite on the ass, but whatever works."

Faramir let out a gruff laugh. "I haven't repaid you for all of those yet."

"What's to repay, you survived the war, didn't you? You should be thanking me."

Faramir shook his head. "Come on, I'll introduce you officially. Then we'll send word to King Elessar and make for Minas Morgul. If we travel under cover of night we may be able to overwhelm their forces unseen."

The sun was dipping below the horizon and Hermione could see dark mountains ahead. The two beasts were flying directly toward them and as they grew closer, she could see a the ruins of a large city, that looked like it was the perfect home for a Slytherin with the thick green fog hanging over it. Cold, hidden under the shadow of the mountains, deep gaping chasms surrounding the outer walls, even in ruins it gave off an air of grandeur.

Hermione had left Snowfola in a small crop of trees about twenty minutes walk away. She had untransfigured the filly and cast a Silencio on her to help keep her hidden. Hermione didn't think she would be gone all night, and returning it would be easier to spot the horse rather than listen for an invisible one.

Disillusioned, Hermione tested the area to reveal wards and other spells. As she suspected, there were anti-Apparation spells as well as Repelling and Sonorous charms. Anyone tripping the wards would be revealed immediately. She cancelled the charms and tried to remove the anti-Apparation spells but found that they were too complex, possibly rivalling those protecting the vaults in Gringotts. Whoever had erected the wards, either had a team of wizards create them or was extremely powerful.

Those winged-creatures she had followed seemed to be roosting on the city walls. The closer she got, the smaller she felt. The place was enormous, it dwarfed Hogwarts. She wondered how she could find a way in without alerting anyone. The main gate opened and a band of goblins came out.

"Lord Gríma is expecting company. Two of you guard the gate, the rest of you start climbing. Man the mountain posts and light the torches when you spot the enemy."

The moment the larger of the group, possibly their commander, turned to return inside Hermione cast a Silencio on herself and ran for the open gate. The band of goblins were arguing over who would climb the sheer mountain face and who could remain on the ground, none of them seemed to notice her slip by.

Inside the city, beyond the looming, crumbling walls, Hermione was awestruck by the architecture. Everything from small dwellings, to multi-leveled towering buildings was coated in a fine layer of ash, but she knew that underneath was pristine white stone and if it weren't for the dark magic she sensed, the place perhaps was once beautiful. The design was certainly something out of a fantasy novel, grand, intricately chiseled and painstakingly built.

Finding a sheltered spot, in the shadow of a disused market stall, Hermione stood quietly and processed the sounds in the air. Aside from the wind hissing through the streets between buildings, it was deathly silent. Casting a spell to reveal the presence of a magical being, she waited for the aura to appear. On the ground she saw red wispy footsteps appear, some were more faint than others, hardly appearing at all, while one was glaring red and almost seemed to pulse. It was new. If she followed these, she was sure she would find the orchestrator behind Éowyn's abduction.

Her theory in casting a detection spell stemmed from the thought that someone capable of magic had to have tamed the mythical beasts, and that person had also enchanted them with protection from physical attack. This place was a fortress for Dark Magic, it oozed with traces of it. The air was thick and oppressive, breathing it in, it singed her nose as though tinged with sulphur, a green mist curled about her and clung to her skin with a feeling of acid. The walls themselves seem to repeal her, causing a roiling feeling in her stomach, but she pressed on, taking comfort in the warmth her cloak offered against the chill and foreboding aura of the city engulfing her.

Through winding alleyways, and down into a small arched room, following along a pitch black corridor and winding stairway till she reached a wall with a locked door.

Hermione heard voices then and jumped back from the door, finding cover behind a large stack of grain bags. Two soldiers came out and Hermione frowned, it was the first time she'd seen anyone that appeared human on the enemy's side.

Trying to door again, she found it locked still and whispered a spell to open it. It inched away from the door archway and she slipped inside. The stairway lead upward and the narrow stone steps were illuminated by oil sconces. Checking that she was still under the silencing and invisibility spell, she continued on.

Éowyn stood in the bed chamber by the only window, she would not go near the bed unless he held her at knife point and even then she would not go quietly, like a dutifully bought bride.

He had taken her from her friends and protectors. He locked her up here with no way of escape and from what it looked like, he expected her to welcome him into her arms and to lie with him. She blanched and felt ill at the thought. Sirius and Hermione must be frantic with worry. She hoped that they were okay.

"Don't fret, my fair one. I will not harm you," Gríma said materializing from the shadows.

Éowyn startled, she hadn't even heard him come in. She had been shocked when she'd seen him on the battlements. He hadn't come to her then, but had ordered his men to put her in this tower. He was supposed to be dead. The hobbits had killed him after he had slain his master Saurman.

"How is it you stand before me, what evil has preserved your life, Gríma Wormtongue."

"Yes," he said with more of a hiss than a word spoken. "That was my name. The name _he _gave me," he spat with vehemence. "A life of promised bliss. A new life, he said. Nothing but empty promises and a cursed existence. To not know what I am, to keep my birthright from me," he said seething with hatred. "In the end I crawled on the ground like a snake you all so often accused me of being." He narrowed his grey eyes on her, the iris growing red as he fixed his glare on her cowering form.

"So beautiful, so pale and perfect. The White Maiden." He circled her slowly, like a hunter stalking a prized catch. "I saw you," he whispered softly in her ear, his index finger coming up to brush across the exposed shoulder her riding gown revealed. He narrowed his eyes when he saw her shiver and flinch away, but dropped his hand, ceasing the caress. "Even in your grief and loneliness you were the epitome of grace. Why did you turn from my affection?"

Éowyn shivered when he stepped behind her and out of her line of sight. "You poisoned the mind of the King, you betrayed our people. How could I ever care for a traitor?" she asked, turning so she could keep her eyes on him.

Gríma sneered at her and swept away. He grabbed the ringed handle on the door, suddenly he turned back to her. "You don't know of what you speak. I did what I had to for the good of Rohan. To stand against Saruman and Sauron was folly."

Éowyn laughed bitterly and looked on him with contempt. "We won the war. What protection could you have given us from our enemies? Even now you are weak, hiding in these ruins like the coward you are."

She saw a murderous glare twist his features, which were already pale, scarred and greasy. Her heart thundered behind her breast and she fought not to betray her fear. He clenched his fist around the staff she knew did not rightfully belong to him.

"I will show you weakness. Imperio," he hissed, pointing the tip of the staff at her. A cloud of mist washed over her face and her eyes glazed and his face softened as he watched her. "I so hoped that not to cage you, my beautiful dove but you give me no choice."

He crossed the room and took one of her hands in his, he lifted it to his cheek and nuzzled it affectionately. "So warm, so gentle. I was denied that all of my life. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you could give me everything no other could. Why do you deny me, sweet Éowyn? Don't you not see how I have struggled? All that I have lost? I could give you anything, I have power now. When those halflings struck me down, it unleashed what had been locked and dormant in my mind. Haven't you ever wondered why I was drawn to Saurman? He had all that should have been mine from the beginning. I could have ruled this land. Perhaps not at first, I was trapped by my own upbringing before. One thing I can be grateful for Dumbledore, the old manipulative fool that he is, freed me to embrace learning and knowledge. Knowledge that now gives me power. Make me happy, dear one. Love me, and I will shower you with all that you desire."

"Yes, Gríma," a soft, euphoric voice answered.

::: ::: :::

Hermione bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out when she heard the Unforgivable. She had to get Éowyn away. Her friend would never forgive herself for allowing Gríma to have her this way. There was no way Éowyn could understand how to fight off the effects of the curse and from the sounds of things, Gríma was fully prepared to take liberties with his newly compliant captive. Her stomach rolled with the possible implications and she hugged herself against the trembling that overtook her body. In her haste to go after Éowyn, she'd completely forgotten her weariness and now it was beginning overtake her in earnest.

Bracing herself against the stone wall, Hermione leaned her forehead against the coolness of the wall, breathing deeply and slowly, hoping to ease some of the stress and fatigue weighing on her body and her mind.

Footsteps sounded toward the door and it creaked. Hermione dashed down the corridor, her foot slipping on a damp part of the floor. Falling forward, her head caught the wood door post and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness were black boots entering her line of vision.


	7. The Siege Within

Something damp was nudging her cheek and Hermione turned her face away with a moan. "Five more minutes, Crookshanks."

Legolas gave the hound a frown of confusion. "Crookshanks?"

The hound stopped nudging Hermione's neck with his snout and tilted his head to one side and gave a short huff of impatience as if to say how could you confuse me with a cat not even a third my size? The beast might have been scary smart like his owner but he was still a ginger fur ball that made his nose itch. Allergies aside Sirius was quite find of the familiar and wondered what had become of him.

When they'd stumbled onto Hermione in a dimly lit corridor, unconscious with bloodstains on her face, he feared the worst. On sensing her breath and feeling her pulse, he had relaxed somewhat and stood back to let the elf check her over.

"My lady, it is Legolas. Can you move? We must continue on our way, we will be discovered if we linger." Legolas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and lifted her from the floor. She muttered something inaudible but didn't wake.

He could only speculate that it was the elven cloak and blessings of the Valar that had protected her from capture thus far. He and Sirius had encountered no less that twelve orcs and two messengers from Rhun as they searched for her. Not counting the many parties of orc camps scattered across the fringes if Gondor's territory bordering Mordor they had to slip by to reach Minas Morgul.

Faramir and Gimlí searched for Éowyn and Hermione in another part of the city, while Aragorn and men of Emyn Arnen rode to their aid on horseback. They would arrive at dawn.

When they received no more word from Hermione once she sent the message that she had breached the city walls, Sirius had grown concerned when the hours stretched on and there was no more correspondence. When he requested an update through the coin for the third time in as many hours, he began to fear to Hermione's safety. He remember her intelligence and her way with a wand. Brightest witch of her age, she had been herald. There wasn't anything wrong with the charmed coins. Hermione was in trouble. Faramir was adamant that they not wait for Aragorn's messenger to report and leave immediately.

Sirius having apparated with several side-along, times in as many hours, not including all the popping around he had done solo, was feeling both physically and magically drained. He was only too happy to revert back to his Animagus form and pad behind the elf. He let Legolas scout ahead and track Hermione.

Hermione opened her eyes and blinked rapidly as she tried to focus her vision on one elf instead of five. She sat up slowly, leaning heavily on one arm, also grateful for Legolas' firm support of her shoulders. "I was sure he found me," she whispered, a whimper escaped her as the pain in her head pulsed suddenly. Her head throbbed with every movement but after a few moments her sight started to sharpen. She probably had a concussion, she conceded wearily.

"Did you find Lady Éowyn?" Legolas asked.

"Yes," she answered, before reaching out gingerly for Sirius. She clutched at the thick coat of fur at his neck. It was familiar and reassuring to feel his satiny yet coarse hair between her fingers. It gave her something soothing to focus on while she sorted her turbulent thoughts and frayed nerves. "Sirius, he has her under the Imperius, we have to get her away from him."

Sirius planted his nose to the ground, Hermione released him, her fingers sliding through his fur as he walked away. He followed his nose back along the wall in the opposite direction they had come, leading them toward the door that Hermione knew Éowyn had been held behind.

Legolas helped Hermione to her feet but didn't relinquish his arm from around her and he kept a supportive hand on her elbow. They followed Sirius together.

Sirius returned to human firm and took out his wand. Inching the door open, he surveyed the room. It was empty and dark, the moonlight barely illuminating the room. A lone curtained bed stood at the center of the room, its sheets untouched. He breathed a little easier with the hope that it meant Éowyn had not yet met a horrific fate.

"They are not here."

Hermione felt pain pulse behind her eyes again. "Perhaps he suspected a spy, even though he couldn't find me. Where would he move her?"

Legolas squeezed her elbow, offering silent support but released her reluctantly when it became evident that she had steadied on her feet. "There are many rooms in this tower. We have not searched them all. Sirius lead me directly to your side."

"I knew your nose was good for something," Hermione teased softly. Sirius pulled a face at her and brushed past them to head back the way they had come.

"There is no other scent to follow. He must be masking Éowyn's somehow. Did you see him? What are we up against?"

"I didn't see him, but he is a wizard. A dark wizard. He seemed to know her well. He's obsessed with her. Her vows to her husband mean nothing to him," she said, a sudden chill made her shiver from head to toe.

Legolas stepped closer to her but didn't take her arm again. He stood behind her shielding her from the draft. Hermione felt his warmth even though he hadn't touched her and she was grateful for his small act of comfort.

"My lady, what did you hear? Did Lady Éowyn speak his name?" Legolas watched her with growing concern, she folded her arms around her body as though to ward off the cold but he felt no draft. He was not affected by the elements as humans were but he was aware of his environment and that thought brought to his mind again the fact that she was not of elf-kind. They were not promised, neither were they soul-bonded, it was not his right to touch her, even to offer support or comfort, unless she invited it. No matter how much his body gravitated toward her, he respected her far too much to act improperly. He wished he could inspect her head wound more closely and tend to it properly but this was not the place for it. As soon as they were safely away, he would sit her down and demand she rest. As it was, he could only stay as close as decency allowed and do no more.

"The two men I passed at the foot of the tower called him, Lord Gríma. I overheard Éowyn say his loyalties were to Saruman and Sauron in the war. I am assuming they were the enemy? She said he betrayed Rohan."

Sirius' brows furrowed. "I thought he was dead?"

Legolas curled his hands into fists and felt a quiet anger take him. The hobbits had been fooled. The murderer had lived. "He was Saruman's servant. If he is a wizard, as you say, then we are unprepared for what evil he may unleash upon us."

"What do you suggest we do?" she asked softly, concerned about the dark shadows that had marred Legolas' pale face.

"We must get word to Faramir and Aragorn. Gríma lives and he has the power of a wizard. The very air chokes out light and breeds darkness, he means to lure us to our death." He was so concerned for Hermione and Eowyn before that he hadn't even noticed it. Fearing for her, his sight had been blinded. An elf blind to the darkness of Mordor, his kin would fall over in shock. The hair on his body bristled with the chill and oppressive ache that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him, he needed to block it out again. He needed to keep his mind clear, they were in danger here. He needed all his wits.

Sirius snorted. "As if we didn't know that coming in. I remember Éomer talking about this Gríma once. He's a twisted sort. He was always after Éowyn and it seems he'll have her any way he can."

"You believe he that will sate his thirst? He was corrupted by a powerful Istari. He will never be free of that darkness. He wants absolute dominion. All men fall prey to Morgoth's call." Legolas shook with frustration at the casual ignorance Sirius displayed. This wizard, Gríma Wormtongue, unchecked, could rally all of Sauron's scattered allies and unleash a new tide of war over the people of Middle Earth. Still recovering from the wrath of Sauron's hand, the tenuously united Men of the West may not survive it. The hurt in his head and the anger taking him grew with each breath.

Hermione placed a hand on Legolas' arm, feeling the tension in his stance beneath the cool metal of his armour. "I came here as a scout. I intend to complete my mission. He may be powerful, but don't forget that you have two wizards at your disposal. We won't let innocents suffer, and we will not allow him to keep Éowyn against her will."

Legolas turned to Hermione and his face softened at the determination in her eyes and the gentle touch of her hand. He bowed his head, and she nodded in return. He felt a keen loss when she removed her hand from his arm but did not reach for her. Her touch had bought his emotions back into balance and had cut through the circling stifling dark like a beacon. He stared at her in wonder. She was injured herself yet her only concern was for Éowyn and what others might suffer at the hands of Gríma. He was right to name her Erulissë. She was compassion gifted from Eru Himself.

They froze when a sharp war cry rent the air.

"Aragorn and his men have been sighted," Legolas said. He hesitated only a second as to his plan. The battle would be outside, everyone would answer the call to arms. She would be safer in the tower and he would guard its entrance until he could take her safely from the city. "Stay hidden." He turned quickly and he ran down the corridor that led to the stairwell.

Hermione hesitated in following him. Her wand, she thought for the first time fearfully. She didn't have her wand. "Sirius, lend me light. I was carrying my wand when I fell."

Sirius returned with her to the spot where they found her but didn't see a wand nearby. "Accio Hermione's wand," he said. Nothing sailed into his hand.

Since replacing Bellatrix's wand with her DoM commissioned one, Hermione found her magic responding better and more powerfully than it had with her original Vine wand. After studying the research on cores in the Department archives she now knew it was because of the Thestral tail hair, that all Unspeakable wands contained. Working in all areas of magic, the wand cores needed to be both flexible and powerful. Capable of producing strong protective magic, as well as healing spells, charms and transfiguration. While Unspeakables didn't have to face the constant threat of duels and Unforgivable Curses as Aurors did, they were still required to be duel ready if the mission required it. Unspeakable wands also had an imprint through blood spells that made it impossible for anyone but the original owner to wield it successfully. It was probable that this was why it was a common belief that Thestral tail hair cores were considered unstable.

Trying to summon it herself wandlessly, Hermione turned to him in horror. "He must have found it. He knows someone was here. He knows a witch has found him."

Sirius grasped her shoulders. "He didn't find you. That's what's important. I didn't know how, but be grateful. Now come on." He took her arm swiftly and tugged in the direction Legolas had gone.

Hermione stumbled after him, and pulled hard to get him to stop, swaying unsteadily on her feet. "I don't feel so good."

Sirius held his wand up and checked her eyes. "I think you may have a concussion." He swept her up and cast a levitation spell on her. "Hold onto me."

As he ran down the stairs after the Legolas, Hermione could do little but hold onto his shoulders as she jostled against his chest. She kept her eyes closed, after her vision started to blur and made her feel nauseated again.

They burst out of the base of the tower and right into the middle of battle. Sirius had only a second to duck them for cover when a spear sailed into the wall where they once stood. He grabbed a pitchfork from nearby and he transfigured it into a sword. "Stay here," he hissed at her before he jumped out of their hidden spot and into the fight.

Hermione stared after him in shock. Not only had he left her unarmed but without cancelling the levitation charm or even disillusioning her for extra cover. Obviously some things never changed, he was still as thoroughly Gryffindor as ever. The Ravenclaw in her was constantly at odds with her impulsive and brazen Gryffindor housemates. Honestly, the battle was won through wits and forethought, although bravery did play a part, it was best tempered with caution. Wandlessly she ended the levitation charm. She hit the cobblestone street with a hard thump. He could have at least left her on top of the nearby hay bales, Hermione thought with a sigh. She peeked around the shelter and ducked when she saw how many unfriendlies where on the other side. The clash of metal and the screams of the dying where chilling her to the core. It had been years since she'd had to suffer those sounds around her. Even though the nightmares had plagued her long after the war, reality was grim and frighteningly well, real. This was not something she could wake up from. Unarmed and bone tired, she would have to rely on her skills and experience as an Unspeakable to get out of this in one piece.

Hermione wished she knew what this Gríma looked like, although she was fairly certain that she would sense his magical signature if he was in the vicinity. The dark aura she had sensed earlier was still oppressively strong so she knew he was still within the city.

"Gríma, show yourself. You are outnumbered. We will not allow you to keep Éowyn prisoner and we will not submit to you. Tell your men to lay down their arms. There need not be more bloodshed."

The man who spoke did so with authority in his voice and even the sounds of fighting around them seemed to lull while waiting for their commanders' to converse. Hermione waited for their enemy to respond along with everyone else.

"You are misinformed, Aragorn. You forget the numbers that dwell beyond the mountain and who they call Master now. It is you with die this day. Kill them, kill them all," he roared.

Hermione felt the chill of his voice in her bones. She trained her ears and followed his voice to a turret high above the fighting. He stood with a winged beast beside him. He had lank greasy hair that flapped about his face in the wind and his skin was pale and sickly in complexion. His lips were thin and had a malicious twist to them. He wore heavy black robes that made him appear hunched and portly, although he moved swiftly without encumbrance. Hermione searched for any sign of Éowyn but couldn't see a head of long blonde hair anywhere.

Then she saw it move. Gríma had mounted the beast and she could see it as it silently eyed prey. It clawed along the lower battlement and then swooped. Her heart leapt to her throat. There was only one long silvery mane she recognised amongst the fighting and the creature was headed right for him.

He was too far. A shout wouldn't carry clearly enough. He was too heavy to summon without her wand and there was a risk he might be injured by a stray slash of a sword or spear if he was merely thrown off balance by a spell. In a split second decision, she threw a Reducto Curse at the wall near the creature. Rock exploded and rained down on both the rider and the beast throwing them off course.

Hermione broke cover and picked up a shield from a fallen body. Placing a deflection charm on it she heard the curses of startled surprise as spears and swords clanged off her shield with as equal force returned to her assailants. She made her way to where Gríma had crashed to the ground, knocking down at least a dozen men in his path. The creature's wing seemed to be bent at an odd angle and it was struggling to stand. Aragon didn't waste time. He and his men charged Gríma's position.

There was an angry cry from behind her and she saw a man rush by her for Gríma. His breastplate bore the White Tree of Gondor. She let him pass unhindered.

Gríma slid from the beast and struck his white staff to the ground. Everyone within a short radius were knocked off their feet from the pulse blast. Hermione ducked behind a column to avoid the spell. Reaching around she summoned her wand, praying he had been prideful enough to keep it on his person as some kind of trophy.

It sailed effortlessly into her hand and she felt her magic hum and the wand welcomed her touch, warming in her hand.

Gríma cursed the loss of that powerful wand. He hadn't been able to cast with it successfully yet but he could feel its power and he wanted it for himself. He hadn't held a wand in many years and he wasn't about to surrender it without a fight. The wand's owner had eluded him before but he would defeat her or subdue her. An Imperius-ed witch would make an unstoppable tool. Earlier he had felt a twinge in the wards alerting him to the presence of someone in the city that he hadn't allowed entrance. When he searched for her he couldn't find her however. There had been an old sack of wheat and a dirty mop left in the corridor outside Éowyn's room but no sign of an intruder. If it were not for the wand he found he would have thought he imagined hearing someone outside her room. Perhaps the witch had tried to apparate and found herself unable to, so found a hiding place quickly leaving her wand behind in her haste. He would not let her escape this time. He hoped to capture her but the wand would suit him just as well.

"Reveal yourself, witch," Gríma spat angrily. He kept his staff poised and fired at anything that bared move. The orcs knew better than to approach him without consent.

He had to be tiring, Hermione mused silently. The magical drain of a staff crystal as opposed to a wand core was immense and he wasn't holding back in his casting either. It was obvious he hadn't seen a duel in a long time. Or perhaps he was just a poor duelist.

"Where is she? Where is my wife?" the man who had passed by her before demanded. His helmet had fallen off and he was favoring his right side but he gripped his sword with determination. Hermione looked at his dirty face streaked with sweat, blood and grime and his matted hair clinging to his neck and cheeks. In the dawn light he looked like a younger Remus and her heart ached at the thought. Sirius had briefly mentioned that Éowyn's husband reminded him of his childhood friend. So this was Faramir.

Gríma laughed. "She is no longer yours to claim. I will aid you in ending your grief at her loss. Avada Ked-

Hermione cast a Levicorpus on Faramir and swung him out the way before the spell left Gríma's staff.

Faramir struggled and swung his weapon in broad sweeping motions against the invisible force suspending him. "Release me," he yelled.

Hermione summoned his sword and brought him to her side swiftly. She hissed at him, "Quiet. He means to kill you instantly. He is a wizard, you are not. So for the love of Merlin, keep quiet." She cancelled the spell hosing him upside down and he fell against the charmed cushioned floor.

Faramir brushed the hair from his eyes and eyed her warily before he looked at her in recognition. "You are Hermione. A wizard like Sirius. Why did you place that spell on me?"

Hermione heaved a small sigh. "He was about to cast the Killing Curse on you. There is no protection against it. You can't save your wife if you are dead."

Faramir properly chastened, bowed humbly. "Thank you."

Hermione waved him off. "I need to disarm him. Can I count on you to stay out of his line of fire?"

He grinned at her. "I'll do my utmost to make myself a nuisance target."

That quirk of a smile and his eyes were all Remus and Hermione felt her heartstrings twinge again. "Just stay alive. I know Éowyn fancies you whole and breathing."

"Yes, m'lady," he said with a nod. He collected his sword and broke cover.

Hermione shook her head with a smile and shot a stunner to cover him while he ran into the fray.

Gríma wasn't holding back. Purple, yellow, red and green flashes filled the misty air. Hermione steeled herself and then dove out. Finding wagon to hide behind she tracked Grímas position and then shot her spell.

"Expelliarmus."

Gríma was knocked off his feet in an amazing feat of aerial gymnastics that sent him crashing into the wall, momentary winded and dazed. His staff lay a short distance away. Hermione didn't wait for him to recover. She dropped her borrowed shield and summons his staff. Wielding both his staff and her own wand, she kept them trained on him. She stunned the orcs and those not wearing the sigil of Gondor and bound Gríma with rope. Walking closer still, she cast a silencio on him and a burning hex, it was not even a tenth the discomfort of the Cruciatus Curse but she'd never been able to summon enough hate to cast that successfully. Her fingers itched to hex with a few of her more creative spells for the death and pain he was responsible for but they needed him conscious and lucid so they could find out where Éowyn was.

As she approached he seemed to be straining against the ropes, his body was growing, swelling and elongating. His clothing smoothed and started to shimmer, sprouting scales. Hermione recoiled in horror when his head reshaped and his teeth lengthened and rounded into long points. She was confronted by a creature she had never believed she would witness in the flesh again in her lifetime.

"Don't look in his eyes. Fall back," she cried. "Sirius, he's a basilisk. Retreat, now."

Hermione shot Reducto after Reducto at the ground. Dust and debris from her curses clouded up the air and the men used the cover it provided to run for the city gates. Hermione hoped that Sirius heard her warning from wherever he had disappeared to. She could see a shadowy shape slithering through the ash. While the debris would have hindered his sight, it would not hinder the basilisk's ability to sense body heat. Her only choice was to engage Gríma while Aragorn and his men escaped. She heard the fatal thud of those who had fallen victim, unfortunate enough to meet the basilisk's gaze or struck down by venom from its deadly bite.

Her clouds were beginning to clear and she saw two figures fighting side by side, relentlessly forcing back the giant snake. They avoided it's glare, dodging with their eyes closed, keeping their ears trained for movement as they swung axe and sword at it from both sides. They moved seemingly in-tune with each other, never once falling under the other's strike. Hermione closed her eyes and cast a spell to enable her to sense auras, so she could avoid the basilisk's stare.

The basilisk wouldn't be driven from its prey, even under the skilled onslaught of two battle proven warriors, it struck with sudden deadly force. As Legolas' blow cut a chunk out of its underbelly, the basilisk clamped down on the elf's shoulder. Gimlí buried his axe in its side with a cry of outrage.

The basilisk recoiled with a gurgled hiss. Gríma shifted to human form and the axe fell free with a clang. He stumbled back further and disapparated.

"Coward! Slithering, forked-tongue, poisonous wretch!" Gimlí yelled as he whirled around searching for his enemy.

Hermione cancelled the charm for aura sight and opened her eyes. Adrenaline coursed through her body giving her added speed and agility, she dodged fallen bodies, fallen stone and weapons to get to her fallen friend. She reached Legolas' side, tears streaming down her cheeks unchecked. He fell to his knees and she caught him around the shoulders and eased him into her lap before he could pitch forward onto his face. She cast a quick Notice-Me-Not Charm around them and opened her bag.

Gimlí made to pull the basilisk fangs from the bloody wound in Legolas' shoulder.

"Wait." She managed to grab his hands in time, and stopped him from touching the venom coated teeth. He met her eyes and understood she meant to caution him, Gimlí sat back on his heels and let her work. Hermione covered her hand in a transfigured dragonhide glove before pulling the two fangs free. She tossed them aside. "I apologize for this breach of your modesty, but it is necessary," she said to him briskly, hoping her voice sounded steady and professional as she spelled his armor and tunic off. Scourgify_-_ing them to save them being corroded by the venom, she set them aside. Cutting into his undergarment, she peeled back the bloodied area of cloth and couldn't stop the gasp before it escaped her mouth. The veins around the wound were already blackened, standing out like webbing against his alabaster tone skin.

The was no potion that would cure him. Part of her had hoped that the teeth hadn't broken skin, even though logic had reasoned that was impossible with the blood that stained his clothes. The best she could do was make him comfortably numb while the poison ravaged his organs, muscles and circulatory system. There was no anti-venom against a basilisk. Legolas' once expressive beautiful blue eyes stared up at her, already ravaged by the venom they were dull, the capillaries broken, staining the whites of his eyes, a foggy film covering his irises.

"My lady..."

"Hush now, don't speak," she chided gently. Hermione removed her glove, took his hand between hers and squeezed it. Gimlí watched them both helplessly. He patted Legolas' forearm before returning his hands to his lap, wringing his belt between his fingers in apparent distress.

"What must we do? Is there nothing for it? You are a powerful Maia. Please," his voice broke.

Hermione shook her head in hopeless resignation. Reluctantly releasing his hand, she pointed her wand in her satchel and summoned a bottle of anesthetic potion. It worked in those who were resistant against stunning, it would numb his whole body and force him to sleep. Healers brewed it as a variant of Dreamless Sleep, it was more potent and less addictive but didn't keep nightmares at bay, making it less popular. "I can make him comfortable. He won't feel anymore pain, he'll pass on peacefully." She held the vial to his lips. Legolas met her eyes and there was so much anguish there, that she felt her heart twist in her chest. "It's okay," she whispered her voice breaking. "Fawkes," she pleaded, "if only you were here."

Legolas parted his lips but his tongue felt heavy and refused to articulate words. He would never thought of himself as weak, but the fire burning through his body was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He wanted to tell her that he wished they had more time together. He wished he could just touch her face, just once. He wanted to see her mind, like Gimli had. Above all, he wished that the tears she cried would cease. It pained him all the more. It was not to be. The sleep she promised sounded like salvation from this torment and he welcomed both the sickly sweet liquid she dribbled over his chapped lips and the softly spoken words of assurance she whispered to him.

The song of a bird he'd never heard before comforted him just as darkness took him.

::: ::: ::::

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. She'd seen Fawkes just appear out of nowhere before, but even though she'd spoken his name, she'd never dreamed he'd come to her aid. The last time anyone had ever seen him was the day of Dumbledore's funeral. There was no denying that this was Fawkes though. He looked at her with his keenly intelligent black eyes and tilted his head as though in greeting. She dumbly nodded and watched with bated breath as tears slipped from his eyes and into Legolas' wounds.

The wounds hissed and closed, slowly the webbing faded and healthy colour returned to Legolas' complexion. His breathing became less laboured and Hermione checked behind his lids to find normal pupil response and the dull, cloudy film gone.

"Thank you, Fawkes. Thank you," she said through her tears. The bird nodded, stroked her wet cheek once with his beak and then took flight. Hermione watched him rising in the sky before he disappeared in a flash of bright light.

Exhaustion washed over her like a tidal wave and the headache she had been ignoring surged to the forefront of her mind with vengeance. Hermione hunched over Legolas' still form and pressed her cheek against the cool skin of his face. She could feel the soft exhale of air from his slightly parted lips and Hermione felt her heart beat a little faster as her eyes settled on the dusk rose coloured, bow shaped mouth. Where they as soft as they appeared? What did he taste of? This close she was basking in his clean, masculine scent, the touch of evergreen trees still clinging to his skin even under the dirt and blood, she could still smell it. She couldn't help touching her nose to the shell of his ear, burrowing closer to where his unique scent was most potent. A groan startled her from her daydream and she jerked upright quickly, searching his face for signs of awareness. The potion should have kept him under for hours. Perhaps Fawkes' tears neutralised the drug effect of the potion as well.

"I saw your face," he whispered as he caught her worried gaze, his lips turned up at the sight. Her tears were for him, not because of the devastation that surrounded her.

The awe in his voice caused her heart to swell threatening the capacity of her chest cavity. She smiled at him brightly. "Welcome back," she said warmly. "Yes, I am here. Gimlí too."

He sat up and felt the area where the wounds had been, where unblemished skin now showed. Legolas turned to Gimli smiled briefly at his friend in relief before he looked to Hermione again. "I had a waking dream, but unlike any other I have had before. I saw you. I sense your aura when I look upon your face but this was different. It was almost blinding yet I beheld you as clear as though I were awake and but it was only a dream, as the clarity has faded from my sight." He traced her cheek, feeling the tear stains, even in her distress she was beautiful. It had been his dying thought to touch her face, and now he had. It stirred a fire within him that was a different kind of torment. He ignored the flame and cleared his mind to convey what he needed to speak to her.

"Arda has dimmed your spirit but the impression in my mind remains. You are as fair and pure as your soul, my Lady Hermione. True beauty can not be measured and is as rare as the Arkenstone Gimlí's kin and my father so treasure." Legolas traced the pad of his thumb past her eye and caught a single tear that leaked from the corner of it. He smiled as she caught his hand in hers and squeezed it, keeping it in place against her face. "In a my long years I never saw the path I followed as unfulfilled and burdened with loneliness. The Valar have enlightened me, and I will wander no more," he said softly, he touched his forehead to hers, bringing their joined hands to his chest. "Dry your tears, My Erulissë. You are weary, save your strength. There is nothing more to fear."

Hermione fought the urge to growl. How could he say such wonderful things in one breath and treat her like a child in the next. Infuriating elf. She disentangled herself from him and reached for his tunic and his armor. With a quick wave, she cast a cleansing charm over him to banish the blood, venom, dirt and grime, then she thrust his clothing at his chest. Hermione got to her feet and stalked away without a backward glance. Nor was she precise or gentle with the Reparo she shot at him over her shoulder as she went.

There was a startled yelp and she thought she heard Gimlí snort back a chuckle.

"What was it I spoke of that cause her discontent?"

Gimlí elbowed him and passed Legolas his swords to sheathe. "You have a lot to learn to woo a fair maiden, laddie."

Legolas huffed and scowled at the dwarf by his side. "I saw the dawn of the third age as a seasoned warrior while you were still being weaned from your mother's milk. Gimlí Elf friend, you forget to whom you speak."

"I do not forget, Legolas. I only mean to offer counsel. Kariti, my betrothed waits in Erebor. When I have chosen my final dwelling place I will send for her and we will marry. It was arranged by my father before the war. She is of good bearing and has a kind heart but she is no fair maiden, nor do I hold any tender feelings toward her. The match ensures that our line continues. I have barely spoken to her. My counsel to you, dear friend, do not make the mistake of letting pride keep you from sharing your heart. Love touches so few. Shun her not."

Gimlí followed Hermione, leaving Legolas to finish dressing while he thought over Gimlí's words. Could it be true? Did Hermione feel something more than friendship for him? Had he made a mistake by not revealing what had seen as he walked the veil between this world and the beyond? His pride had caused him pause while looking into her eyes. There was still so little he knew about her. And he had never been one to put blind faith in dreams. Dare he trust to hope that her heart had warmed to him?

Her tears had surprised him and her smile, he could no longer deny what her happiness stirred in him. Her happiness brought him joy he had never known. If this was love then he understood why his kin only found it once and could wait many lifetimes of men in search of their match. But to bind himself to her. She was not of his world, her wish was to return, she had spoke of that many times. If she found a way to open the portal back, would she choose to stay? If he accepted his heart's choice he could be condemning himself to eternal heartache alongside his brother. And even if she did stay, would she age, would her spirit join his in Valinor. His vision had shown him her spirit in a land evergreen and peaceful. Where her beauty was unmatched in his eyes. Was that their future?

A breeze caressed his cheek and he felt a whisper in the air. In his minds eye he saw her spirit form as he lingered near death. She had held him, watched over him, cried tears for him. Her spirit had warmed his soul, cooled the fire in his blood and touched his troubled mind with a gentleness caress and tranquility only those in the Undying Lands could hope to attain. Even if he still had questions, there was one answer he had. He no longer had a choice, his heart belonged to her.

::: ::: :::

Hermione felt the coin in her pocket grow warm. She pulled it out and read the message.

_Are you safe? SB_

Hermione smirked who else was capable of activating the coins let alone understood how to use it? Shaking her head she spelled her reply.

_Gríma escaped. How many lost?_

The message shifted before her eyes. _Too many. There a three petrified. Faramir._

Hermione a breath caught. She knew how to brew the potion that restored her and the others petrified by the basilisk in her third year but without mandrakes it would be useless even trying to brew it. _Any clue where we can find mandrakes?_

She didn't have to wait long for a reply_. If anyone knows it'll be King Elessar. He's a healer._

Sirius mused over his reply and waited for Hermione to reply back. If the king didn't know then his wife might. She was the half-elven princess and she had studied under her father, a renown elf healer. No one knew the plants and creatures of the land better than the elves. Speaking of elves, no one had seen Legolas or his four-foot-tall friend. Sirius smirked cunningly as a plan took shape in his mind.

"My King, my wizard friend has grouped with the Elf and the Dwarf to follow Gríma's trail. Until we can find out where he has taken Lady Éowyn, she has suggested a search for certain herbs in order to help save those who were petrified by the basilisk."

A soldier nearby scoffed at that. "There is no helping them They are like stone. They have been cut down like trolls by sunlight."

Sirius rounded on him. "They are not dead until they're warm and dead." Lily would have laughed herself silly if she'd ever heard him quote that muggle medical saying but in this case it applied perfectly. "I'm the wizard here and I suggest you take your skepticism and negativity elsewhere if you've got nothing helpful to contribute."

The man stared him down for a moment before skulking away. Sirius folded his arms. "that's what I thought," he said muttering under his breath. Little did he notice that Aragorn had watched the entire exchange with a smile on his face. He had not been humoured in months, not since the hobbits and Gandalf had left them. He smiled again in fond memory of his friends. He wondered if these wizards would provided them with as much adventure and unwavering friendship as Gandalf had. They hadn't had time for a formal briefing yet, but as soon as they could reach Osgiliath he would call one to order. Three wizards, Saruman's staff and dark magic at work again and a dear friend held captive didn't bode well for the West so soon after the war.

Outside the city gate, a fair distance from where Aragorn's men had retreated, Hermione struggled to put one foot in front of the other but continued on anyway. Her boots weighed down like lead and she scrounged around her bag for Pepper Up Potion. She summoned the vial, uncorked it and downed to in one gulp. Stream poured out her ears and she immediately felt marginally better. She felt the coin warm in her hand again and read the message.

_Pursue Eowyn. Send potion instructions._

Hermione huffed. That didn't seem like a very fair trade off. She didn't fancy riding around the country side, her behind was still recovering from the last few days. She thought of Eowyn unaware under the Imperius Curse and felt her resolve strengthen. Legolas was good at tracking, and she had Gríma's magical signature now, she could track him better than Sirius could with a wand. Although, she didn't doubt that his nose could be handy too. They both had important jobs to complete however, so they would have to split up.

"Expecto Patronum," she cast, thinking of her happiest feeling. Not surprisingly, Fawkes arrival and Legolas' subsequent healing lept to the forefront of her mind. While Patronuses were mostly used as guardians against dark creatures that attacked the spirit, they had intelligence and could be used for other purposes. As Dumbledore had by teaching the Order of the Phoenix how to use them as a means of communication. It could travel at the speed of thought, or it could travel slowly, it could speak with the caster's voice and deliver the message only to the intended party. She opened her eyes, intending to instruct the pure spirit to track Eowyn with an additional, Investigo Spell but the words halted on her tongue at the sight of her Patronus.

A beautiful Phoenix flapped and hovered before her. It was unmistakably female with it's shorter tail feathers and lack of elaborate head feathers but it most definitely was no otter. Her heart skipped in her chest. Did it mean that all this time her emotional attachment to Ron had influenced her deeply enough to impress her spirit or had she merely transferred it to a newer more present unrequited love? Finishing the spell to start it on its way, she sat down against a tree, her head in her hands. What did her Patronus mean? Did she really feel that strongly for Legolas, or had her Patronus been a Phoenix all along? There was one way to find out but she didn't have the time or energy to pursue that line of thought at the moment. Animagus training took time, focus and plenty of magical energy. None of which she had at the moment.

"What was that?" Gimli asked in awe.

Legolas watched her silently as he approached alongside his friend. He knew exactly what it was, it had adorned her chest in etched gold brilliance in his vision. He would not breathe a word of it however. Not yet. He was just as eager as his friend to hear Hermione explain it herself.


	8. Prophecy in Visions

**The mountain range near Minas Morgul**

Hermione was saved from answering when she lost consciousness. Her magical core while low was not critical, the same couldn't be said however for her physical state. Emotionally strained and suffering from a concussion, and half starved from not having eaten properly in about 24-hours, it was a wonder she had lasted on her feet long enough to make it through the battle.

Legolas caught her as she swayed and forgot to breathe when her eyes rolled back in her head. He had planned to meet up with Aragorn but he could not delay tending to her head injury any longer.

Sweeping her up into his arms, he headed back to the point where he and Sirius had appeared. It was a sheltered spot under a large formation of volcanic rock. The trees were dense and provided cover from sight from the city gates. There was also a small stream nearby.

"Gimli, we need fresh water and wood for a fire."

The dwarf nodded and dropped his pack and his weapons. He rummaged in his sack for a small cooking pot and went to fill it. "If we can rouse her, she could use a good broth. The lass probably hasn't eaten in a long while. Last I saw her eat was an apple yesterday."

Legolas shook his head, he had seen Hermione's eating habits for himself. She was easily distracted from food and mostly ate for nourishment's sake alone. If her stomach did not protest abuse from hunger, she would easily forget meal times altogether lost in her books. "I have a little lembas bread left."

Gimli nodded. "It would do her good. How did you come by it? Your terrible cooking and baking skills are one of the few qualities that have me believe you are not a mythical fantasy creature sent by the gods to mock me."

Legolas smiled and felt his face warm in embarrassment. It was true, he shouldn't be permitted to use a cooking pot or an oven. He had almost poisoned an entire hunting party in his youth, and that was a feat in itself considering Elves had superior bodies that could self heal against almost anything rapidly. The stomach cramps had lasted a day and he had never stopped being a paragon of elf fallibility, at least in Mirkwood anyway. He had observed the women at work in preparing meals and had improved immensely since then but his confidence in that area would never allow him to attempt creating anything more than sustenance for himself. "My cousin made enough for our journey. Had we reached the eastern settlement of Mirkwood, we would have met with my father and replenished our supplies. We have been waylaid several times and I have but one packet remaining."

"Been hoarding it all for yourself, have you. I'm astounded. Perhaps I'll make a dwarf out of you yet."

Legolas couldn't stop the bark of laughter that escaped. "Gimli, greed is not purely a Dwarvish affliction. My father is certainly proof enough," he said somewhat bitterly. While Thranduil was a wise and feared leader he wasn't without his flaws. Legolas knew better than most, having bore witness to his father's mistakes, ruling over the years. He could be almost despotic at times and could alienate faster than one could draw breath. He had a difficult disposition and could appear cold, unfeeling. Not once during the war had he expressed any concern for the Fellowship of the Ring, of which his eldest son was a member. Nor had he bothered to attend Aragorn's coronation marking the end of the war.

Legolas tried not to let it burden his heart but it did regardless of his rationing. The Elvenking had many pressing concerns during the war defending Mirkwood from Sauron's armies but a word of gratitude for his efforts as emissary to Elrond's Council in his stead would not have been unwelcome. Alas, for an elf like his father it was asking too much. Many years of war defending the forests from foes had hardened his father from the loving, carefree Elf that enjoyed feasting and hunting, days of basking in the sunlight groves between the trees of his childhood. Those days seemed so long ago that he could not reconcile the two different memories he had of Thranduil in his mind. He prayed the time of peace now that Sauron was defeated had been kinder to his father and that the leader and mentor he would someday meet again would be more like the one from his youth. Though he was loathed by the thought, Legolas knew that he was more like his father than he wished to be. He was distant, keeping his thoughts and emotions to himself, rarely seeking the company of others and as Hermione pointed out not long ago, he was often ignorant to the needs of his friends. That would change. Instead of scowling at the presumption that he socialize, he found himself warming to the thought. Most assuredly if it meant Hermione would be the one beside him, bringing him out of his self imposed seclusion.

Unrolling his sleeping mat, he laid out Hermione with great care and went in search of some herbs to sterilize her cuts and reduce the swelling of the injury on her head.

Legolas crushed the gathered herbs in his hands and then dropped them in the boiling water that Gimli had prepared. He let the leaves seep to release the oils before he added strips of clean torn cloth. He took the pot from the flame and set it on the earth beside his feet. With one of his clean arrows, he removed the strips from the boiled brew and let it cool slightly before he began to wipe away the dried blood on the side of her head. Once he dressed the wounds he used the cooled mixture to wash the blood from her matted hair. wringing her hair dry, he covered her wet hair with the hood of her cloak so that the cold air would not chill her head. She hasn't stirred once during his ministrations which spoke of her exhaustion.

Both Legolas and Gimli startled when the wispy bird-like apparition appeared forming from a blinding flash of light.

Legolas stiffened when it drew even closer to Hermione but stayed any sudden moves when it met his gaze, regarding him with gentle intelligent eyes before dipping its beak and passing into Hermione's forehead. When she jerked suddenly and opened her eyes, Legolas thought himself foolish for allowing the creature near her. He unsheathed his blade and thrust forward, his sword passed through its head catching nought but air. The creature of light met his gaze once more before dissipating around the blade.

Gimli grabbed his wrist, worried the Elf would make another foolish move and Legolas watched with wide eyes as Hermione stared upward unblinking and unmoving for a long moment before her chest expanded and her breathing returned to normal. He had seen Hermione conjure the creature so he assumed it would not do harm to her. Legolas had not seen that however and he could tell by the look on his friend's face that he was at a loss of what to do.

"How do you feel, lass? We have clean water for you to drink and lembas bread for you to eat. It will aid you in regaining your strength."

Hermione nodded tiredly by have him a grateful smile as Gimli held out his water skin. She took a long swallow and tried to sit up.

Legolas gripped her shoulder. "Lie back, rest. You have been wounded."

Hermione huffed. "No more than you," she retorted a little indignantly. She lay back however to avoid argument and to provide less proof she was childish as she suspected he already believed of her.

"I know where she is. We must save her."

"The creature revealed this to you?" Gimli asked. Hermione nodded. "Can you share the thoughts as you have done before?"

Hermione hesitated pondering her magical core. It probably wasn't a good idea to attempt a reverse Legilimens spell while feeling as drained as she was. She shook her head, there was a safer course of action however and it also meant that Sirius and King Elessar's men could mount a rescue without waiting for her to recover her strength.

Her bag lay a short distance away and wordlessly she summoned a small vial from inside. Placing her wand to her temple she closed her eyes and removed the memory strand the Tracking Patronus had shared with her. Sealing the vial, she gave the little glass to Gimli. "Take it to the camp and give it to Sirius. Hunter, as Eowyn knows him and he will know what to do. Thank you, Gimli," she said after he accepted it with a nod.

Legolas watched his friend hurry away through the trees before looking back at his wounded charge. She was staring at her hands. They were trembling and she was trying to hide them in her lap.

Slowly as not to startle her, he covered her hands with his. "You need not be afraid for her. I do not believe he will harm her." Even as he spoke the words he cringed inwardly. While Eowyn might survive her capture physically whole, he feared for her spirit. He did not know what kind of enchantment Grima had placed on her, but he knew that being trapped, stripped of her will to fight would be devastating for the strong woman.

Hermione could read the doubt in his eyes and even though his voice was soothing and his words meant to comfort, she felt even more dread for her new found friend. She desperately wished she was stronger, that there was some way she could save her from this awful fate. She had to believe Sirius would find a way. Never one to be idle, she shook her head slowly. Coming to a firm resolution, she forced herself to her feet. This territory throbbed with dark magic and she was too weak to even attempt Disapparition, but she would be able to scout on horseback. It was far too dangerous to send in men against a wizard. Sirius would work with Aragorn or even attempt a rescue himself, meanwhile Hermione meant to continue on and learn what she could about Grima and his allies.

Being the first animagus known to take the form of a basilisk, Grima's blood could reveal if there was a special gene that allowed him to wield the magic signature to the basilisk. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should attempt to complete her animagus training. She had done the research and theory behind it, but she'd never studied under an animagus to go through the steps to safely transform. However now was hardly the opportune time to approach Sirius for coaching, just to test a hunch about her animagus form.

It was a thought worthy of pursuit when they weren't trying to rescue a friend from an obsessed dark wizard. She wondered if Phoenix's Tears could counteract the dark curse of Petrification. Fawkes would not cry on demand however and remembering Gimli's reaction to the bird's appearance and ability, Hermione was extremely reluctant to expose him to the natives. If his expression was anything to go by, they seemed unaware of his existence in their world.

Hermione could feel the bone-weariness of her body. The nerve twitches were increasing and her muscles were starting to seize. She needed her muscle relaxing balm and her neurochemistry stabilising potion.

Crucio victims suffered a direct attack on the central nervous system. The effect overwhelming the body's nociceptors, pain signals flooding the brain and prolonged exposure causing a person's mind and body to systematically shut down. The longest a person could be held under with no lasting damage was a minute. Repeated exposure also had varied prognosis, a lot of war victims like herself suffered from muscle spasms and nerve degeneration, similar to Parkinson's Disease. She hadn't had a lot of time to research it but she had speculated to whether the Cruciatus Curse was linked to the Muggle Parkinson's Disease. If it could have been the cause or had been created to mimic the results at an accelerated rate. The Cruciatus Curse was hardly a new spell, and Dark Wizards had been using Muggles as guinea pigs for centuries.

"My lady you need to rest," Legolas said with gentle concern. "I will raise your shelter for you, if you will allow me to."

Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks. It was disconcerting being the subject of such chivalry. Even in the Wizarding World which was entrenched in the old ways of Pureblood tradition and clung to the Laws of Merlin, with even the style of dress seemly frozen in the 1900s, as a Muggle-born, she'd never been treated as an equal, much less someone worthy of chivalry. Although as she thought of the Weasleys and Sirius, there were notable exceptions to the Pureblood bigotry.

Summoning the tent from her bag, she gave it to him. "Just set it on the ground and I'll enlarge it," she said softly, her voice fading with her fatigue.

The spell had barely left her lips before her eyes slid closed. She vaguely noted the feeling of weightlessness and a comforting masculine scent before she fell into a deeper dreamless sleep.

.

**The Leaky Cauldron**

Reports filed, perpetrators questioned and charged. Dololovo's trial had been swift and damning. He had been Kissed immediately after the Wizengamot had handed down their unanimous verdict.

Harry nursed his now cold butterbeer and wondered if he should have just forgone his usual for a Tuesday night with his workmates and hit the hard stuff from the second he walked in. The first day after Hermione had fallen had gone by in a haze for him. He felt like there was a hole in his chest. Something was absent and nothing could reach him. Not Ginny's sympathetic touch and sad gaze, not Ron's attempt at silent hovering support, the guy was dealing with his own guilt it seemed but Harry couldn't even muster any concern over that, and certainly not every random wizards condolences on what a extraordinary person Hermione was and how they were sorry he'd lost his dear friend. His brain just couldn't seem to process that he'd lost another of his closest family. He didn't have many he considered his family to begin with and to lose two of his most treasured in exactly the same way seemed too incomprehensible to be reality. He refused to accept it yet his body, his heart told him something was missing. She was missing.

If he was being honest with himself, he felt guilty more than anything for not making more of an effort to be with her when he had the chance. It was sixth year when he notice how much she'd grown into her features and how attractive she had become. She had always been just Hermione, clever, dependable, bossy, best friend. His only girl-friend really. She had been there to help him navigate this big astonishing foreign world. Raised in the Muggle world, they shared a kinship that only another Muggle-raised could. Not being raised with magic hadn't set her back in the slightest however and she could outsmart and outshine even some of the oldest of Purebloods. She'd saved his life several times, had been there to offer support and comfort when he needed it most and always had his back even when she didn't agree with what he was doing. Even if he was being a pillock to her, when all she'd ever done was look out for him.

He felt a familiar arm curl about his waist and soft ginger coloured hair fell across his cheek as she put her head on his shoulder.

"You have to talk about what you're feeling, Harry love. I know you said that you're bound by the secrecy of the Department but I think I found away around that." She nodded to a dark booth in the corner of The Leaky Cauldron.

He could see that someone was sitting there. Someone not very tall and shrouded in the shadows of the low lit area so that he couldn't make out more than that. "Gin, I appreciate the gesture. I know I haven't been very pleasant to be around lately..." She fixed him with a silencing look and he shut his mouth like a well trained husband would. Ginny was no nonsense and hated excuses of any kind. She was do or don't with no in-between. He loved his wife but he knew she had a temper and she was awfully talented and creative with her hexes. A genuine sorry was enough for her.

"I know how important she was to you, Harry. And I was never as friendly or supportive as I could have been to Hermione and your friendship. I was always jealous of your closeness and I told you before, It was childish of me and I want to do this for you. I can't say how I know but talking to Luna might help."

Harry sighed. He knew Ginny must've referring to the fact that Luna was an Unspeakable and thought he didn't know. He had been bound by his oaths as an Auror and an employee of the Ministry not to disclose anything he had seen or learned that night while defending the Department of Mysteries without prior clearance. Clearance he would never get since it was a well known fact that the mysteries known to Unspeakables rarely, if ever, left the confines of those lower level floors. The gag order was teamed with a trigger Obliviate. And as desperate as he was for answers, he wasn't going to risk losing those last moments with Hermione.

There was no harm in letting his quirky friend talk at him though. She always knew more than most gave her credit for. She was remarkably intuitive and extremely intelligent. It wasn't an accident that she'd been put in Ravenclaw and but even Hermione had been surprised to learn that Luna had only placed fifth behind her in marks. Harry stood slowly and dropped a kiss on Ginny's forehead before making his way to Luna. She lifted her head and he could finally see her face from under the large floppy hat she wore. Her light blue eyes twinkling happily, she smiled widely at him in greeting and took his hand in greeting before for flicking her wand around them with a silent spell of silvery mist.

"What was that?" Harry demanded, his face hardening. he hated being drawn on without explanation. she had caught him off guard and years of being on the defensive made him jumpy, even angry if you pointed a wand in his direction. It was only her kind eyes and familiar face that kept him from reflexively disarming her.

"You wanted to talk about Hermione, I was merely creating a means for us to do so. We are inside a temporal bubble. Because time outside is infinitely slower, no one will know what we discuss in here. Oh and don't worry about the Obliviate trigger. I will do all the talking and anything you would like to ask, just right it on my notepad."

Harry's jaw dropped. The words of the oath came back to him and he realised that at no point did he oath not to write down his experience, he was only bound not to speak of it. he goggled at the glaring loophole in the spell and wanted to head-desk at the thought. Hermione would have figured that out the moment they had demanded the oath from him.

Harry eagerly took the offered notebook and self-inking quill and started writing furiously. After the first question was done he read over it and noted with dismay that he didn't understand a word if it.

Luna smiled indulgently. "It's a signature shorthand quill. Only I can read it."

"Charmed," Harry said with a twitch of his lips.

"Quite," Luna bantered back.

Harry gave her a real smile. It was hard not to when in the presence of Luna's serene and eternally optimistic attitude. When she smiled it was like watching the sunrise. Never failing and always full of warmth. She was the least judgmental and most forgiving person he knew.

The thought of warmth made him ponder how cold he felt. It was as though he couldn't stay warm these days. As though the air constantly leeched all warmth from his body. Instinctively, Harry flicked his wand and conjured Hermione's signature blue flame, he captured it in the empty butterbeer glass and put his hands around it for warmth. Thinking of the dawn he realized it had been days since he'd actually noticed the sun and he couldn't remember the last time he'd even stopped to look the sky. There had been hours of sky watching whilst camping all those years ago. So focused on his reminiscing, Harry failed to notice the faraway look in Luna's eyes and the blankness of her expression as she seemed to stare through the flickering blue flames.

It was only a pained gasp that brought his head up and he caught the look of horror on Luna's face with great unease. it had to be something terrible that would shake her unflappable nature.

It was a little known fact that Luna was a true Seer. Unlike Sybill Trelawney, Luna wasn't in the habit of spouting off prophecies for any random eavesdropper - she saw things. They weren't always clear but they always came to pass. She also had an intuition about things that couldn't be explained beyond it being a natural ability. He learned that Ginny hadn't defied her parents and demanded to join their 'trophy' hunt because Luna had reassured her friend that while Hermione was his right hand then, she wasn't the one he turned to in his future. Luna had also known that Ron would make an excellent Keeper and her unwavering support had been a great boost to his confidence.

Harry took both her hands tightly forcing her attention to him and worried blue met cool green. "What did you see?"

A shiver raced through her whole being and she closed her eyes, playing back the images in her mind while releasing her breath with a slow exhale. "I will be easier if I show you."

She brought his palms to her head and with a soft incantation he was in her mind. She was still holding his hands and he didn't withdraw from her when he could see that his grip brought her comfort. "This is where it begins," she said.

A basilisk reared up before them out of the cloud of mist and Harry stumbled back pushing Luna behind him. He instinctively closed his eyes before he felt Luna's gentle touch between his shoulder blades.

"We are in my mind, Harry," she reminded him softly. "He can not hurt you here."

Harry looked down at her. "The Slytherin basilisk was female. But I spoke to her, her voice was female. How can you tell?"

"He is not what he seems," she said cryptically.

Harry looked at the frozen image and shuddered. Now that he looked closely, he noticed the head was slightly larger and the scales more elaborate. These creatures were beautiful in their deadly allure. Belatedly he wondered what had become of the dead basilisk beneath the school. It's hide was harder to spell against than a dragon's hide, it would have made impressive armour. Not to mention how many of its body parts could have been used as potions ingredients. With Hermione's and The Half Blood Prince's (Snape's - it was still difficult to reconcile to two) tutoring he hadn't been left completely ignorant to the art of potion making.

The red eyes of this basilisk made him shudder. Even as a vision the dark magic of its gaze gave him the willies. It was the red hue of it's gaze that also made him think of another creature from his past that wrought death.

Dumbledore told of death being the next grand adventure. The Veil was in the Death Chamber. What if it was the gateway to the afterlife where those that died lived on. That meant that Sirius and Hermione could be now fighting Voldemort again, this time without him.

The basilisk lunged at something hidden by the mist and the vision shifted around them and he saw the mist clear. At his feet lay Hermione. Her honey brown curls dirtied with mud and matted red and her face splashed with blood. He throat and shoulder were torn apart. His stomach roiled at the sight and he wondered if it was possible to damage Luna's consciousness with his sick. He managed to choke it back for dignity's sake and fell to his knees.

He tried to stroke her pale lifeless cheek while tears flooded his eyes. Fiercely he'd hoped that she would be safe, even find happiness on the other side but he had his doubts. Whenever there had been danger, Hermione seemed there in the thick of it whether she'd wanted to be or not. How was it any stretch to believe that wherever she'd landed, she would continue to fight for what was right and what she believed in, regardless of the danger it put her in?

What happened next froze his heartbeat mid-pulse. He watched his long-absent godfather, lift Hermione's body and place her on a marble altar. The surroundings reminded Harry of a old mausoleum. Sirius reverently laid Hermione out. She was dressed in a beautiful white gown, decorated in golden thread. Many seemed silently in attendance, laying what looked like periwinkle flowers around her body.

Harry let out a harsh breath when a striking male, or magical creature lifted her hand and gingerly kissed it before laying her arms across her body. He whispered something in a language Harry didn't understand but as he took a step back Hermione's body began to glow.

It was so bright he had to shield his eyes and he felt the air around him heat up. He chanced a peek and saw that her body had been consumed by blue flame. They had cremated her? While on the Horcrux hunt, years ago, they had spoken morbidly in rather frank detail about death. Harry firmly wanted to be buried with his parents. Ron wanted whatever his parents wished for him and Hermione and wanted to be buried somewhere near Hogwarts. It was the first place she'd ever felt like she belonged, the first place she'd made real friends, felt accepted for who she was even if she was still shunned by some for being Muggle-born. She had never made any mention whatsoever of being burned to ashes however.

The scene changed again and it looked like they were in a dungeon of some kind. He heard inhuman screams and he watched as Hermione cried. They had her shackled and collared but they weren't beating her. It was someone else who was crying out. She looked gaunt and frail though, her skin looked paper thin and she looked as though she hadn't seen sunlight or eaten for a long time.

Her tormenter caught her tears in a vial and left the view of the vision. But he heard another voice yell in frustration. "It's not working! It should work. Maybe it only works in her animagus form."

Hermione, an Animagus? It was the first he knew of it. He looked down at Luna, and she merely shrugged with a tiny frown of thoughtfulness settling over her face.

This time it was Hermione who screamed when they hit her with a spell that flashed purple. Brilliant crimson stained and bled through her thin dirty robe and her head lulled to her chest, her voice releasing a pained moan.

"She's unconscious again."

Harry felt anger burn through his body, his fingers twitched and he felt his wand spark causing him to jump as he felt the pain of the shocks hitting his physical body. He'd be lucky if he hadn't set his robes alight. Obviously despite appearances, it looked as though the off vision victim wasn't the only one suffering physical injury. He desperately wanted to help her, to save her from this but he dimly realised with hopelessness that this was only a vision.

"Wait," he said, his voice excited.

Hermione's body glowed and burned brightly, blue flames licking up her body, before they faded away, leaving her body bared yet unmarked and supple, all traces of fatigue and abuse vanished with the cleansing fire.

"Remarkable. Unconsciously, she heals. Of only we could find a way to transfer it."

The scene changed again, and he saw Sirius blast his way through a door. Belatedly, he realised it was the door to Grimmauld Place. Of course, they'd updated the wards on the property to hide it after the war from overzealous fans and the press. The Fidelius Charm was enough against most, but some still stumbled on blindly through anyway. The current ward was keeping Sirius from seeing beyond the barrier beyond the front entry and the trigger Confundus was obviously causing problems for him too. He was looking around wildly, disorientated and panicked.

"We have to help her. We have to find her! Harry, can you hear me?"

The vision ended and together in her consciousness, Harry and Luna stood silently in thought. When would this happen, was it already taking place? How would Sirius return from The Veil and who would capture Hermione? It was obvious that though the Basilisk struck her with a killing blow, her Animagus form had saved her from a mortal death.

"Is she a phoenix?" Harry asked his voice soft with awe and speculation.

Luna inclined her head thoughtfully. "Perhaps. It is a magical creature whose life-cycle is defined by fire, it would also explain why they want her tears. I imagine she would make a beautiful phoenix."

Harry blushed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like agreement to Luna while running his hand through his stubbornly unkempt hair. "Has anyone ever come back from The Veil before?"

Luna shrugged again. "It's not my department, but I did try to look into it. You'd be surprised at how resistant Unspeakables can be to their fellows, even if the offer of assistance is genuine, and has the possibility to forward research."

Harry snorted. "They're Unspeakables. They enjoy being cryptic and difficult. No offense."

Luna smiled and patted his arm, before she took his out and they were drawn back to reality. "While it's not what you want to hear Harry, it seems as though Hermione will return to us all on her own. And she'll need our help when she does. Or your godfather, Sirius Black will for a start. The best we can do now, is be ready."

Harry nodded resolutely. "I didn't recognise any of the men in the vision holding her. Did you?"

Luna shook her head. "I have a friend in Magical Law Enforcement though. Perhaps if I consulted him, he might recognise one or both of them."

"Can we trust him?"

Luna knew what he was asking and nodded her head. Being a Muggle-born in a senior position in the Ministry, also the friend of the Boy Who Triumphed, had not won Hermione any favours. Before applying for and accepting a job in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had been offered her choice of positions within the restructured Ministry of Magic. Also given the option to accept her graduation, in gratitude for her active role in defeating Voldemort and sacrificing her 7th year, it had made her many enemies with Pureblood families and Voldemort sympathisers. Regardless of the fact that Hermione hadn't accepted any preferential treatment.

"He was neutral in the war, but it was only because he was in an extremely vulnerable position. I know he respects Hermione a great deal and he will help us in any way he can," she assured him.

"I trust your judgement on this, Luna. Let me know if you learn anything new, and I mean anything."

She nodded and he let her give him a farewell kiss on the cheek before she left the booth. Harry sat for a while after she left the pub, quietly staring deeply into the bluebell flames flickering in the glass. Trust Hermione to surprise him this latest talent. People were always dismissing her as nothing more than book-smart swot. But he knew better. He'd had years to watch her brilliance take shape. There was nothing that she wouldn't try, and if there was a problem, you could be sure Hermione would find a way to solve it. It made sense that out of any magical creature, she would be a phoenix, she was the type that would never quit until a job was done, and her caring nature for all creatures paired well with a innate healing and soothing ability.

"Hermione, where are you? Please come home," he whispered.

.

**Middle Earth**

Hermione woke with a start. She'd slept like the dead. She never slept like that unless she was knocked out, physically or via a potion. She was always too hyper aware of possible danger. And being in this foreign land definitely counted as dangerous territory. It was unsettling to think that being in Legolas' arms had made her feel safe enough to let her guard down completely. She blushed realizing that he put her to bed. He had smelled wonderful whilst he had held her against his chest. Woodsy, fresh and soothing. He was so handsome in his physical perfection, his silvery blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes with vivid specks of byzantium colour which seemed to glow when he was angry. She shook her head violently against her train of thought. Listen to her, waxing poetic over the Elf. She was seriously deluded if she fancied a snowball's chance in hell that he even thought her worthy of notice. in such a manner. Smoothing her curls back from her face, she hit her bed-head hair with a smoothing and de-tangling charm, and refreshed herself with a good strong Scourgify. She'd love a shower, but there was no time for that. She needed to know what was being done for Eowyn and also how they could source some Mandrake.

Making her way out, she failed to she the shadow coming around the front of the tent. She strode head-along into Legolas, who seemed to have been coming in to check on her.. Her nose and hands hit his breast-plate with a loud smack and the effect was instantaneous.

Blood spurted from her nose and her eyes smarted. Legolas looked mortified and hurried to press a cloth to her face. "I'm so sorry."

"Soo...kay," Hermione mumbled. Thankful that she didn't need to speak the incantation to set her nose to rights. With a wordless Episkey, the bleeding stopped and her nose stopped throbbing.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, his voice laced with concern and his eyes tight with self-recrimination,his brows drawn with a frown.

Hermione felt foolish that she hadn't taken note of her surroundings better. She patted one of the hands that her bracing her by the elbows and he seemed to reluctantly release her. "I should have seen your shadow as I was coming out of the tent."

"You really shouldn't be up yet," he said with a pointed look at her head. "Your wound is not yet healed."

Hermione pointed her wand at her head and whispered a healing spell. The lingering throb and itching of healing skin immediately faded and she gave him a forced smile. "All better."

Legolas scowled and Hermione fought back an unladylike snort. That expression wasn't an attractive look on any face, no matter how flawless their features.

"Then at least rest and eat a moment before you attempt to go after your friend."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at his assumption, however accurate it was. "Yes, sir," she said with a small huff of irritation. Dampening the square bit of cloth in her hand with an Aguamenti spell, she cleaned the blood from her face. No matter how proficient a witch she was, she still couldn't break some Muggle habits. Bathing was one of them. The longing for a warm bath or shower hit her again. Soon, soon they had to find a decent tavern for proper lodging. Either that or she was going to throw up some Silencing charms, transfigure a tub and bathe right in the middle of the tent. Standard repelling charms should ensure privacy right? Knowing her luck however, Sirius, Legolas and Gimli would all come bursting in when she failed to answer them. Even a sealing charm on the tent would probably be misconstrued as some sort of threat to her person.

With a sigh of resignation to her current predicament, she summoned her bag from the tent and dug around for two meals before she heard a soft snoring.

Hermione spotted Gimli propped up against a tree over the way, and stifled an embarrassed yawn. Obviously, she wasn't as well rested as she first believed herself to be. Looking around the camp, she noticed the small fire almost reduced to ashes and then looked at her feet. As she stretched out her stiff limbs she realized the log she and chosen to seat herself wasn't actually a log at all but a bed roll. It must belong to Legolas since Gimlí was currently asleep on his. She scrambled up and gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry." She tugged it up and dusted it off, hitting it with a freshening charm before offering it to him. "You didn't tell me, I would have moved," she said in hushed tones.

Legolas waved off her concern and took the bundle, setting it to lean against the rock she was now seated on. "It was not necessary. I had no need of it and I suppose it would make a more comfortable seat than the rock you know doubt intended to choose," he said with a grin. "I will search for some food for us to eat. I'm afraid that Gimli ate the last of the lembas bread that I had intended for you when you woke," he said with an impish grin. "Dwarves are renown for their appetites, however Gimli has a particular weakness for Elvish bread."

Hermione, still a little sleep addled, could only speculate why Gimlí would like lembas bread, and was a bit envious that she couldn't try some for herself to answer what the fuss may have been about. Thinking on Legolas' mention of scavenging the forest, she remembered she had plenty of food to share. He hadn't gotten a chance to sample her ready meals yet and she was sure that he would be just as impressed as Gimli had been with them. "Do you like beef?"

Legolas gave her a perplexed look. "What is beef?"

"Ah, a cow?" His expression didn't change. "Meat from cattle?" Hermione explained, wracking her brain for how else she could describe it without drawing a picture or worse, mooing.

"Oh," he said, a thought seeming to dawn on him. "You carry salted meat?" While elves weren't all strictly vegetarian, they did not raise beasts of any kind. Animals were left to roam in their native habitats, usually only venturing into the elf territory when under threat or while young and curious. His father had a familiar, that often visited but never stayed long. Lissësúl, was King of the Megaloceros and very old. He wondered if Lissësúl would survive long after his father sailed across the sea. Creatures that bonded rarely lived longer than their bond humans/elves and for Lissësúl who was incapable of following Thranduil to the Undying Lands, his leaving Middle Earth would be as though he had died.

Living largely on the produce of the land, and needing very little to sustain themselves, elves rarely had the need to hunt game of any kind so he was unfamiliar to all the different kinds of meats that man liked to consume. Although being around Gimli had broadened his knowledge somewhat. The dwarf rarely went a meal without consuming some manner of beast.

Hermione had almost forgotten that she'd never gotten a chance to give him his meal when they had travelled together before. He must be starving, it had been almost a full day since they'd eaten anything more than an apple-like fruit that she'd summoned for them, from high in a cluster of small trees they'd passed on their journey from the small village they'd stayed with Eowyn in. "I have both meat in a stew and the dried salted form, jerky, we call it."

"Can we eat the meal cold? I would not risk a fire while still in these forests. Our enemies are too close and we are a way from the protection of King Elessar's men."

Hermione wanted to argue that he'd had a fire going at some point already but reluctantly decided to let it go. He must have had his reasons. Perhaps he'd deemed it late enough that no one would have noticed the smoke or light.

"I usually prefer heating it the Muggle way, it tastes better but I can spell it warm. It's not all that palatable cold." She pulled a face, remembering once when the power had gone out at home and they'd been stuck eating cold casserole when she was eight. The power had stayed off for week. They'd eaten leftovers kept in a cooler, bread and take out from stores over an hour away till the power company had managed to fix the problem. Cold showers, she thought with a shiver. She'd never let her hair get that greasy since. There had been several points in her life where she'd considered cutting off her hair, but never more than that week. It had been horrid.

Life as a witch meant things like greasy and tangled hair were easily managed with a quick series of spells. Ones she'd utilized regularly while on the run with Harry and Ron to keep her wild mane under control.

"If you believe you have enough to spare," he said humbled that she would share her supplies with him. "Once we reach safer territory, I will hunt game for us. It will preserve your stores for when there is greater need."

Hermione opened her satchel and silently summoned two meals. She warmed them and offered one to Legolas. She picked up two twigs and transfigured them into spoons. The last few had been lost to the river days ago.

He nodded his thanks and squeezed the pouch lightly, inspecting and sniffing the contents.

Hermione smiled. "I'm not going to poison you, I swear."

Legolas smiled at her teasing and put a spoonful of the stew in his mouth. "It appears somewhat unappealing yet it is satisfying."

"I've made another ready-meal convert. Mrs Weasley would tell you different, but cooking is overrated," she said, huddling with her back against a tree to enjoy her chilli beans. Fully engrossed in savoring her spicy meal, she missed the soft look Legolas bestowed on her.

The woman was an enchanting creature, with her curious speech, confident manner and impressive magic. Every word she spoke he absorbed into his infallible memory, he was eager to know of her world, her family of which she spoke fondly, of her experiences and he found himself conflicted again that she'd chosen a confidant in Gimlí over him. He had seen them sitting together on the rock by the river from his perch among the trees where he had been scouting the north edge of Mirkwood. And he had observed them on many occasions since, conversing, laughing, enjoying each others company.

He understood that he wasn't the most approachable person, he knew he had a frosty exterior, hardened all the more by centuries of quiet solitude. While his brothers and sister had found their soul companion, he had continued to lived alone, dissuading the brazen few who dared to pursue him. For some the title of Princess of the Woodland realm and oldest son of Thranduil appealed to those Elf maidens with ambitious designs. For remaining few, it was the thrill of the chase. He held no illusions that they desired him for his attractiveness or for his skill with a bow. All the Elves in his father's realm were so skilled and all Elves were born blessed by Eru with pale, unblemished skin and fine, soft hair. Perhaps it was due only to the fact that he looked like a youthful, less care-worn copy of his father with his almost white golden hair - rare in Sindarin elves. The most defining trait between he and his father were their eyes, while his was more of a river blue, Thranduil's were like a stormy sky, almost grey. Legolas mused that if it was fairness they were after, they should have saved themselves their fruitless pursuit and chased the Elves of Lothlorien. Silver, moon-touched and golden hair were in abundant supply there. Muineth, his most ardent admirer had sailed to the Valinor with the Elves of Rivendell during the war. It had been a weight from his mind to know that he would be left in peace when he returned to his kin.

A sweet smell captured his senses and broke him from his reverie. "What are these?" he asked as her, as she pushed a cake-like piece of food into his hands. He was intrigued by the smell, it was slightly brittle and both soft and hard in places. He took a small bite and felt it melt in his mouth, the crumbly texture giving way to more chewy pieces.

Hermione watched his obvious enjoyment with a pleased smile. "It's an ANZAC biscuit. My father shared them with me on my fifth Christmas. While mum wasn't watching of course. She's the more strict of the two of them regarding the low sugar diet. He has a cousin in Australia that sends us a huge tin every Christmas. They're my favourite baked treat. They're nutritious as well as yummy." A twinge settled in her chest at the thought of her parents. When the reversal hadn't worked, she'd left them to their lives in Australia. She could have had their case referred to St. Mungo's as the Aurors of the Australian Ministry had suggested but she'd felt guilty enough about disrupting their lives and taking their memories in the first place. They were happy as Monica and Wendell Wilkins. Having someone who they believed to be a stranger have them forcibly removed from their home and institutionalized until a solution could be found, if at all possible was beyond what Hermione thought forgivable.

Legolas saw the shadow of sadness in her eyes and felt her pain. He knew she was homesick. He could see it every time a faraway look came over her face. As much as it tormented him, the thought of never seeing her again, he would help her return to her world. For as much as he wished she would come to recognise his affection and accept him, he only wanted her happiness and well-being. If finding the answer to the wizard's cave would bring her joy, then that was what he would help her achieve.


End file.
